Ghost Protocol
by J3di Jad3
Summary: Assassinating Darth Vader is no small feat, but a decade after the rise of the Empire, Obi-Wan Kenobi believes he can do it- or die trying. To succeed, he'll need a competent team- such as the Ghost crew. And they'll need a powerful diversion- such as the supposedly dead Padmé Amidala, who joined the mission without knowing who Darth Vader truly is. [AU]
1. Regrets

**Author's Note:**

**For this AU (alternate universe), I played around with some of the characters' backstories- no major changes, like "Obi-Wan is a Sith Lord," just little tweaks here and there.**

**I hope you enjoy this story, and may the Force be with you! :)**

* * *

***** 4 DAYS UNTIL EMPIRE DAY *****

Ben Kenobi slouched low in his chair at the bustling cantina. It was always a risk to come out in public, but it was worth it to catch the holonews every two or three weeks. Even if the official Imperial channels only aired sycophantic stories, he could learn the truth- or something close to it- by eavesdropping on his fellow patrons' grumbling.

Ben pulled his brown hood lower over his brow. He'd picked a bad day to come out: it was under a week from tenth anniversary of the Empire's formation (rather dully named "Empire Day"). The Empire always ran (or re-ran) its most sensationalistic stories leading up to the event: Jedi captured, rebel cells invaded, and more of the like. Everyone- at least, everyone on Tatooine- wanted to see the carnage.

Occasionally, the gruesome imagery was interspersed with shots of the glimmering Imperial capital: Coruscant. Although there was always some lavish gala thrown for Palpatine's most loyal supporters, this year was something special- according to the Imperial holonetworks.  
"_A military procession showcasing the Empire's newly utilized weapon, the AT-AT, will march from their storehouse up to the Imperial Palace…." _The young reporter chirped away.

Ben sighed, his mind wandering as his gaze shifted around the cantina. The environmental comfort unit must have broken down, because even by Tatooine's standards, the heat was stifling. Then again, it might simply be because the windowless cantina was so packed.

He straightened suddenly as a line from the holonews grabbed his attention: "_-latest rebel protest was brought to justice this morning at Alderaan. Lord Vader intervened as- th- Organa-" _The monitor above the bar flickered, the sound cutting into a deafening screech. A rowdy cry rose up from the patrons in a variety of languages, with varying degrees of profanity used, until the bartender clambered onto a stool and shut off the monitor.

Ben blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the sudden darkness. He hadn't realized how much of the cantina's lighting came from the holomonitors.  
"Hey! I'm talking to you, drukhead." A voice growled just behind and to the right of his ear. Ben calmly turned around.  
"My apologies, friend." The Jedi smiled as his eyes searched the towering alien. It seemed that in his shock, Ben had spilled his drink directly on the creature's lap. "Let me buy you another," Ben continued. The hulking purple alien grumbled an affirmative. Ben gestured to the bartender, and a moment later, the situation was repaired.

"I don't suppose you could tell me what that last bit of news was, could you?" Ben inquired of his new companion. The Jedi motioned for the bartender to pour him a drink, as well.  
"Somethin' about Alderaan." The horned alien replied, his eight beady eyes regarding Ben suspiciously. "Vader shut down some rebel riot there. Was arranged by Senator… Organa, it was."  
"How odd." Ben murmured- mostly to himself. "From what I heard, Senator Organa was arranging a peaceful march to protest the Empire's inhumane actions."  
"Sounds like you know a lot about it." The alien growled, moving to a new seat in the bar.

Senator Bail Organa had sent Ben a transmission weeks ago, stating his plans… and his fears for young Leia Organa's safety. The senator had requested that Ben would take care of her if anything happened to the senator and his wife, Queen Breha. Namely, if anything _Imperial_ happened to them.

Ben leapt up from the bar, tossing down a few credits. He had a call to make.

Just then, a cheer rose up from the bar as the holomonitors flickered to life. Ben froze, eyes glued to the bluish screen.  
"_-despite earlier accusations, Senator Organa (a loyal Imperial servant)-"  
_Ben couldn't help but smile at that monicker.  
"'_-has been cleared of the charges brought against him. During a political march on Alderaan-"  
_"Is that what they're calling it?" Ben mumbled to himself, a finger resting thoughtfully on his beard.  
"_-Senator Organa's demonstration was interrupted by rebel infiltrants. The retributions to this treason were captured by security holocams. Standby for broadcast." _

The screen went blank for a moment, and Ben braced himself for what he might see. Even so, his stomach squirmed as he watched the events play out.

Young men and women in dark, flowing dress- _Alderaanian mourning clothes,_ Ben recognized- were gathered in a quaint square, colorful flowers hanging from every windowsill. Stormtroopers surrounded them, firing into the crowd without mercy. Ben saw one of the civilians raise his hands in surrender-

But the recording cut to another angle before the outcome could be seen. Ben saw this trick pulled by the holonetwork again and again over the next three minutes. Doubtless, it was because those civilians hadn't survived.

Although Ben managed to calmly observe the first three minutes of the massacre, the next image hit him with the force of a sledgehammer: Darth Vader directing the stormtroopers, patiently waiting for the slaughter to conclude.

Suddenly, Ben was again Obi-Wan Kenobi, standing in the ruins of the Jedi temple.  
"_If into the security recordings you go, only pain will you find,"_ _Master Yoda advised him. But Obi-Wan needed to know who could have done such a thing- who could have slaughtered so many innocent beings. Against Yoda's advice, Obi-Wan played the miniature hologram. And the answer had come crashing down on him: it was Anakin Skywalker-his student, his friend, and his brother- who was a ruthless murderer.  
_"_I can't watch anymore," Obi-Wan choked out. His knees were suddenly very weak, and his heart was racing-_

Obi-Wan snapped out of the trance, once again in a seedy cantina on Tatooine. He tried to wipe the image from his mind, but the ghosts of Anakin and Vader persisted, as though they were they were burned into his retinas.

Remembering why he'd gotten up in the first place, Obi-Wan strode out of the bar, and raced back to his home.

* * *

"Senator Organa speaking," Bail answered the call.  
"Bail," Obi-Wan gasped in relief. He'd sprinted into his small dwelling, stumbling through the dim space, and immediately called Bail's personal comm. It was foolishly risky, but Obi-Wan had to know if Organa was safe.

Obi-Wan, of course, had taken the precaution of disabling all images on the holocall. And with his top-of-the-line comm encryptor (used only on special occasions such as this), no one could trace the call back to Tatooine. If Bail hadn't answered the call- if, say, a stormtrooper had answered instead- Obi-Wan wouldn't have incriminated Senator Organa.  
_Hopefully…._

"Ben? What's going on?" Bail asked. Although Obi-Wan couldn't see him, the senator sounded stunned.  
"I was hoping to ask you the same thing," Obi-Wan replied, a weariness overcoming his voice. Even with a galaxy between them, Obi-Wan could sense the anger in his friend's next words.  
"It was a massacre." Organa bitterly responded. His breath suddenly became much louder, as if he'd raised the comm right to his lips to whisper into it. "It was a peaceful demonstration of unarmed civilians, walking calmly through the city. Their intentions were clearly outlined: it was to raise awareness of the inhumane treatment occurring under Imperial rule, particularly with regard to Wookies. At… _her_ recommendation-"  
Obi-Wan knew exactly who "her" was: Mon Mothma, the leader of the Rebel Alliance.  
"-I had kept my exact involvement vague," Organa continued, "and wormed my way out of trouble because of my good track record in the senate."

Obi-Wan nodded gravely, then remembered that Bail couldn't see him. They both intended to keep it that way- if Organa's comm was somehow bugged, the less evidence against the senator, the better.  
"You spoke about trouble," Obi-Wan prompted. "The holonews never showed who shot first."  
"The _blasted Empire did!_" Organa hissed. "There was a large crowd marching. About two hundred of them made it into the square, when stormtroopers circled it and mowed everyone down. The rest of them- another three hundred, perhaps- hadn't made it into the square yet. They turned and fled," the senator recalled, his voice somewhat distant. "They had no weapons. There was nothing they could have done. I expected pushback, inquisitions, arrests; we all did. But… _this…._"  
"I understand, my friend." Obi-Wan murmured gravely.

_Another massacre at Anakin's hands,_ his thoughts circled darkly. _As it has been for a decade. It may be so for a decade more….  
_"No." The Jedi cut off his thoughts without planning to. Yet the moment the word left his mouth, he was filled with certainty, a greater certainty than he had felt in ages.  
"Ben?" Organa questioned.  
"It can't be like this anymore," Obi-Wan said, a plan forming in his mind.  
"You saw what happened today," Organa replied. "What more could we do?"  
"_What more could we do, than what we're already doing for the Rebellion?" _Was his unspoken question. And for once, Obi-Wan knew how to answer it.  
"You can meet me at Location Three tomorrow?" The Jedi asked. He had a feeling that Bail could.  
"This evening, actually, if I hurry." Bail answered. A cautious note of hope had settled in his voice.  
"I'll see you then." Obi-Wan replied. "And- Bail- you'll want to set up a meeting with… _her_… for when we get there. Something better discussed with her in person."  
"Understood." Organa replied crisply. There was much to be done; the quicker the sign-off, the better. "And… well, I can hardly say it here, but you know the phrase."  
_May the Force be with you.  
_"And you know it, as well." Obi-Wan answered.  
_And may the Force be with you, Bail, as well…._

* * *

"Location Three," better known by non-rebels as the Mortae system, was chosen because it was a place Vader would be hesitant to visit. It was the same reason that Alderaan had been chosen to hide Leia, and Tatooine had been chosen to hide Luke and Obi-Wan. Each planet had a painful connection to the life of Anakin Skywalker, and unlike Mustufar- where Vader had chosen to convert that anguish to power- these other planets were entirely unwelcome reminders. Or so Obi-Wan, Bail, and Mon Mothma hoped.  
So far, the gambit had paid off.

Alderaan was connected to Padmé Amidala: she and the planet's senator- Bail Organa- had been close friends, as well as colleagues and political allies. Vader would despise a visit to Organa's home. And the Sith would avoid- at nearly any cost- the torment of seeing Organa's young daughter, who had survived when Padmé's child had not. At least, not according to the holonet.  
Yes, Leia would be safe with Senator Organa.

Tatooine, meanwhile, was connected directly to Anakin Skywalker- he had spent his childhood there, trapped within the illegal slave trade. Luke Skywalker would be very safe there, in the home beside Shmi Skywalker's grave.

As for Location Three…. Obi-Wan stared down at the blue and purple swirls of the mountainous planet, a hot flood of guilt overwhelming him. Vader might hate the thought of setting foot on Mortae… but it wasn't any easier for Obi-Wan. Ten years, it seemed, was not enough to clear away the failures of their past…

The Jedi shook himself firmly as his mind began to drift into those distant memories. He would not indulge in self pity. Not as long as there was work to be done- and for a Jedi, there was always another way to serve. No, all his guilt, all his sorrow could not save Padmé Amidala now.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, running through the ancient meditation exercise: _Four counts to breathe in…. There is no emotion; there is peace…. Eight counts to hold one's breath…. There is no emotion; there is peace…. Eight counts to breathe out…. There is no emotion; there is peace._ But despite the exercise, Obi-Wan found himself blinking away hot tears as he gazed out into the stars.

Perhaps it was the guidance of the Force, then, that he revisited those memories. He glanced around the crowded transport- it was a public shuttle, and had obtained clearance to land almost immediately upon their arrival. They would enter the atmosphere shortly. There was little time to meditate upon the memories…. But the urge to do so only grew stronger. Obi-Wan sighed softly to himself, closing his eyes as he allowed the painful failures to drift into his mind….

There were endless places to begin- any point in the Clone War, or in Anakin's training. Or even earlier, in Anakin's childhood as a slave. They had all added up to shape young man's mind, and the decisions he would make. But there was really only one place that the trouble could be traced to: the one place where, had Obi-Wan (or any of the other Jedi) intervened, things could have been different. Or at least, could have been delayed.

It was the Separatist invasion of Mortae.

There were many ways to describe Mortae during the Clone War, but only two of them were relevant. The first was that the Mortae system was a Republic world bordering Separatist space. The second was that Mortae held the medicine that could have saved Padmé's life.

She'd fallen ill just months before the end of the war. It was a suspiciously rare case: Adamen's Disease, caused by improper atmosphere regulation in her diplomatic quarters on the planet Leven. The regulators were so advanced that breakdowns were practically nonexistent- even if a breakdown occurred, the machine could self-diagnose the error and report it before any harm was caused. But mysteriously, the diagnostic systems were compromised. And so, the flesh-eating bacteria of Leven's natural atmosphere found their way into Padmé's lungs.

Whether Palpatine had orchestrated the breakdown of Padmé's atmospheric regulator remained unclear- although it was far from unlikely. What Obi-Wan knew for certain was that Palpatine, under the guise of Darth Sidious, had ordered Count Dooku to invade the Mortae system. Padmé's medicine never made it to Coruscant.  
_Was it easy for you, Palpatine? _Obi-Wan reflected bitterly. _Such an elegant solution to such a complicated endeavor: drawing Anakin to the Dark Side._

Leven's regulators had been functioning to near-perfection for seven centuries, and it caused the cure to Adamen's Disease to become just as rare. It was produced only in the Mortae system, where the key ingredients grew, and only on request. Leaving Anakin only one option, if he wanted to save Padmé: organize a campaign to take back Mortae. Of course he had done so- and had done so even against the High Council's orders. But Obi-Wan had refused to come with him.  
_Oh, but you helped him, Palpatine, _Obi-Wan thought, an old anger flaring back to life, _didn't you? Not enough to save Padmé, of course, but enough to make you Anakin's hero. And just enough to make me his enemy…._

Their final conversation before Anakin had become Vader drifted back into his mind.  
"_Anakin, the Council has ordered me to track down General Grievous," Obi-Wan said for the hundredth time. He placed his hand on his brother's shoulder. "The sooner he's defeated, the sooner the war ends. And then Mortae will be a part of the Republic again- permanently."  
__Anakin nodded, a lump in his throat. He hid his face from his teacher.  
_"_Obi-Wan…. Please. I can't- I can't tell you why." Anakin pleaded with him, his gaze on his boots. "But I have to do this."  
__Obi-Wan pulled him into an embrace. Anakin clung to him tightly, and Obi-Wan could feel him shaking.  
_"_The Force will be with you, my friend." Obi-Wan told him. "Always."  
__Anakin didn't answer. Obi-Wan gently pulled away from Anakin, the former smiling sadly as he boarded his transport to Utapau. Only later would he hear that Anakin's campaign failed.  
__By the time Obi-Wan returned to Coruscant, Anakin had taken the name Darth Vader._

"All passengers, prepare for landing," A cheery, automated voice announced over the shuttle's speaker system. Obi-Wan quickly shook himself from his daze as the bumpy descent into Mortae's atmosphere began….

* * *

Hours later, his feet ached from walking. It would have been beyond unwise to take a airtaxi to his clandestine meeting, so Obi-Wan had elected to walk the five klicks between the spaceport and his secret rendezvous with Senator Organa. This proved to be much easier said than done: Mortae was a rocky world, with steep hills lining the valleys and mountains. The Jedi was considering giving in and asking Bail to give him a ride from his current location. But he'd made it this far…. Deciding he would simply rest for a time, Obi-Wan sat on a convenient ledge of lilac stone, and allowed his mind to drift.

_By the time Obi-Wan returned to Coruscant, Anakin had taken the name Darth Vader…._

* * *

***** 10 YEARS AGO *****

Foul smoke still unfurled from the Jedi Temple's towers, adding to Coruscant's polluted atmosphere. The few surviving Jedi were scattered across the galaxy, hiding from their own soldiers- and above all, hiding from the newly anointed Emperor Palpatine. But the only thought in Obi-Wan Kenobi's mind was Master Yoda's parting words: "Stop Skywalker, you must, before it is too late." The green alien said gravely. A deep sorrow filled his wide, copper eyes. "Listen to me, or the Council members, he will not. Listen to you, he may yet, Obi-Wan."  
_Before it's too late?!_ Obi-Wan wanted to scream. _Children have been slaughtered! Anakin…. _Even in his own mind, Obi-Wan couldn't finish that sentence.  
_We failed you, Anakin. We all did.  
__I'm so sorry._

"I…" Obi-Wan spoke hoarsely, realizing he hadn't answered Yoda. "I will… do what I must, Master."  
"The Force will be with us." Yoda sagely answered.

An hour of covertly searching Coruscant yielded no trace of Anakin. His former padawan had covered his tracks well….  
_And you do not want to find him,_ a small voice- a truthful one- whispered at the back of his mind.

And truly, he didn't. Obi-Wan didn't want to look into his brother's blue eyes. The eyes that could be filled with so much joy, even in the midst of a terrible war. Obi-Wan did not want to see those eyes belong to a murderer. Obi-Wan struggled to soften his heavy breathing, blinking back hot tears.  
_You must do this. You must. You must…._

Finally, the solution- a glaringly obvious one- presented itself: Padmé Amidala. If Anakin had told anyone anything, he would have told it to her first.

Obi-Wan raced to her apartment, dodging clone troopers all the way. They were patrolling this sector particularly well- Senator Amidala's apartment was within sight of the Jedi Temple.  
_Rather convenient for her and Anakin,_ he thought sourly. Obi-Wan shook those thoughts away. He had no idea what role Padmé may or may not have played in Anakin's fall. In truth, Obi-Wan had no idea about…. Well, anything having to do with their relationship, if it could be called that. There was some sort of attachment, or romantic entanglement, of that much he was certain…. He ignored the flash of guilt, and the ache it sent through his chest.  
_Yet another way I have been blind to Anakin's life…._

Suddenly, he was in Padmé's doorway, although he had no memory of arriving there. A young man in elaborate emerald robes approached him.  
"General Kenobi," the boy greeted him in a reedy voice. "I'm glad to see some Jedi have remained loyal to the Emperor."  
"Ah… yes," Obi-Wan agreed with a smile, pulling his hood down lower. _Blast _the holonets for showing his face so often... "I'm looking for the Naboo senator- Senator Amidala?"  
"Oh… I'm very sorry. You haven't heard?" The boy raised his blond eyebrows. "I am the Naboo senator now- Senator Fullka. Senator Amidala resigned because of her poor health."

Alarm bells rang through the Jedi's mind. He'd seen Padmé force herself into the Senate even with a raging fever- and he'd watched Anakin carry her home when she passed out at her desk. If Padmé resigned for "poor health," it was serious.  
"Can you tell me where she is now?" Obi-Wan questioned, anxious to get to her immediately.  
"Yes, I believe she left an address for us to forward messages to, if they were sent to me by mistake…." Senator Fulka murmured, rummaging through a desk drawer. "Ah- here we are." He handed a small scroll of paper to Obi-Wan.

The Jedi glanced at it quickly as he forced a smile and took leave of the senator. It was an address in the lower levels of Coruscant. He frowned as he studied it. From the look of things, Padmé had taken residence in a cheap slum sector. But- no, that couldn't be right. Padmé was a former senator, she should have had more than enough credits to live comfortably on Coruscant….  
_But then, she can hardly return home, can she? _Naboo was on the front lines of the war: Separatist worlds bordered it on three sides. It would be no safer for her than Mortae.

But he was wasting time speculating. Obi-Wan jumped into his speeder and raced to her new apartment.

* * *

He stepped around yet another lump of reeking trash, nearly tripping on the uneven permacrete, despite his Jedi reflexes. The glowpanels overhead gave off a nauseating green light, and between that and the burst sewage pipes, Obi-Wan found himself holding down his breakfast.  
_Breakfast on the shuttle, coming back from Utupau…. _It felt like a lifetime ago.

He paused outside the apartment complex, trusting the obscurity of the location to protect him. Obi-Wan hadn't seen a clone trooper in over half an hour. The Jedi stretched out into the Force, searching for Padmé's presence. There couldn't have been more than two dozen tenants in the apartment complex. It was a simple, one-story building made of permacrete, and the exterior was lined with doors leading to each apartment. It should have been an easy task to locate Padmé. But her presence eluded him- either she wasn't home, or…. Obi-Wan refused to consider the possibility, but it crept into his mind anyway.  
_Or she's dead, or so close to it that she can't be sensed…. Not even by a Jedi Master….._

Obi-Wan walked up to the shadowed apartment complex, and found the former senator's door. It was made of rusty durasteel, set into a warped doorway; there was no bell or pager to alert Padmé to his presence. He knocked softly.  
"Padmé? Are you home?" He didn't dare to give his name. "I'm back from Utapau," the Jedi called again. "I'm looking for Anakin- have you seen him?" There was no reply.

Obi-Wan sighed, and studied the lock. It looked like a keypad with a simple passcode. But no amount of inspection would reveal the combination to him. Fortunately, at this early hour, the alley was deserted. Obi-Wan breathed deeply as he centered himself in the Force, feeling his lungs expand, along with his mental awareness. Then the Jedi raised his hand, and called upon the Force to raise the haphazardly installed door. The ear-splitting creak nearly broke his concentration. Obi-Wan quickly ducked inside Padmé's home, wincing as the door dropped down behind him with another metallic screech.

He widened his eyes, but nevertheless failed to make out any shapes in the dim apartment. His first thought was that no one was home: the air was stale, and the sparse furniture was undisturbed. A thin layer of dust coated most surfaces. It took a second, very thorough search to absorb the signs of life. The overhead glowpanels were turned off- likely because of the deep, spidery cracks in the transparisteel; however, a small, dim lamp sat on the floor. But even without a lampshade, its murky glow cast more shadows than it removed. The food prep station was relatively free of dust, and the lamp's rosy glow revealed a meal resting on the rickety bedside table. It was untouched, and had grown cold long ago. Obi-Wan was ready to give up, when he spied a face so suddenly he jumped.

She was as pale as the pillow her head rested on, with sunken cheeks and such a weak presence that Obi-Wan hadn't sensed her before. The Jedi sat beside her on the bed, struggling to distinguish her petite figure from the nest of blankets.  
"Padmé…" he called softly, brushing his hand against her cheek. She didn't move. A few terrible seconds stretched into an eternity, and he feared she was dead. Then she coughed. Her eyes fluttered open, but they scanned the room blindly, unable to focus on his face.  
"Obi… Obi-Wan…." she wheezed between gasps for air.  
"It's alright. I'm right here." He answered gently, placing his hand on her shoulder. Finally, her caramel eyes focused on him. She smiled.  
"Anakin and I have… m-missed you," she struggled to say. Her breaths were rapid and shallow, and her skin was like ice.  
"You don't need to talk. Just rest." Obi-Wan smiled at her with a reassurance he didn't feel. He pulled a small, purple vial from the pocket of his robe. "I brought you this from Utupau," he continued, holding it up for her to see. "It's not the medicine you need, but it should help your symptoms. Enough for you to get out of bed, at least."  
Padmé freed an arm from her covers and pulled him down into a hug. "Th- thank you." She whispered. "Oh, Obi-Wan, you don't know how much this means…."

When Obi-Wan pulled away, he saw the tears welling in her eyes.  
"There now," he said, ignoring the wetness in his own eyes. Padmé was his friend- they'd been close for years, even though they'd seen each other infrequently. He could place himself in those memories so easily now: morning tea at his quarters in the Jedi Temple, passionately discussing diplomatic matters. A warm dinner in her home, on those long nights when the holonet aired another false account of Anakin's death. Seeking each other's company when a diplomatic banquet stretched into torturous boredom. Never feeling forced to speak, but simply enjoying one another's presence.

Whatever her relationship with Anakin might have been, Obi-Wan didn't hold it against her. How could he, when he himself had failed as Anakin's teacher, turning a blind eye to the obvious romance?  
_And disregarding his obvious distress, when you left for Utupau…. Never once inviting him to speak frankly, without fear of the Council's retribution…. You know so little of what his life has really been like, _a voice in the back of his mind sneered. And Obi-Wan worried that it wasn't entirely wrong.

"Here. Let me help you." The Jedi said, turning his attention to the present, and ignoring how his voice broke. He gently raised Padmé's head, holding the vial of medicine to her lips. She drank it in fits and starts, struggling to breathe, let alone swallow the liquid. But eventually, she emptied the vial.

The effect was immediate. Her breaths slowly became deep and even, and her eyes grew bright and alert. Obi-Wan sent a silent word of gratitude to the Force, that Tion Medon- Port Administrator of Pau City- had given the medicine to Obi-Wan; it was a reward for defeating Grievous on Utupau. Although Jedi never asked for rewards, Medon had insisted, leading Obi-Wan to beg him for anything that might help Padmé. The vial came from the personal med bay of the planet's leader, and its quality evidently matched its reputation. Already, Padmé looked well enough to stand.  
_And there is no time to waste,_ Obi-Wan thought, his stomach sinking.

"Padmé… I'm so sorry to ask this of you." He began, pouring all his focus into keeping his voice steady. "But if you're well enough, I need your help."  
"Of course." She answered readily, slowly pressing herself into a sitting position. Obi-Wan slipped his hands beneath her shoulders, helping her out of the tangle of blankets- and he froze, mouth agape. Padmé laughed at his expression, and ran her small hand fondly over her stomach.

_She's pregnant. _The thought rang through his mind like the deep toll of a bell. _Oh, Anakin… Anakin, I'm so sorry. I should have been here.  
_He knew he should stop staring, but the shock had frozen him in place, every limb too numb to move. Padmé gently swung her legs over the edge of the bed, planting her feet firmly on the permacrete floor.  
"Gods, that's freezing." She said, smiling broadly as she wiggled her toes. "Do you think you could find me some socks?"  
Obi-Wan nodded, his mouth suddenly dry.  
_How in the galaxy am I supposed to tell her this now?_

Padmé motioned to a small chest of drawers, and he shakily pulled a drawer open, fumbling through the clothing until he found her fraying pair of socks. The mundane action cleared his mind, and speaking seemed possible again.  
"Padmé…. First of all, congratulations." He smiled as he handed her the socks. A genuine warmth filled his voice. There might be hope for Anakin yet- perhaps, if only for the sake of his child, he would return to the light.  
_And perhaps, if not now, then someday…. _

"But small talk aside, you need my help?" Padmé asked, pulling on her soft socks.  
"Yes." Obi-Wan paused, feeling the seconds stretch into a lifetime.  
"With?" Padmé prompted gently, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Anakin…." Obi-Wan felt his limbs trembling.  
_Focus. Padmé needs you now, _his mind whispered, _as does Anakin._ Obi-Wan heard the words as clearly as if Qui-Gon had spoken them. His former master's calming presence flooded the room.

"Anakin has turned to the dark side." Obi-Wan said softly.  
"_No." _Padmé said. She turned away from him, trying to hide her face. Obi-Wan still saw the tears that spilled out of her caramel eyes. "No, Anakin would _never-_"  
"I saw it," he whispered. "Padmé, he…"  
_The younglings… every single one of them….  
_"He may not listen to me." He said, his voice hoarse. "But he may listen to you. For the sake of your child."

Padmé wrapped her arms protectively over her stomach.  
"I don't want to harm Anakin any more than you do," Obi-Wan pleaded softly. He folded his hands atop Padmé's. Both pairs of hands rested gently over her child.  
"But Palpatine- Emperor Palpatine," The Jedi amended heavily, "is the Sith Lord we've been searching for."  
Padmé gasped. Her wide eyes stared at him in open horror. Her breath, which had been so shallow minutes ago, was quick and heavy.

"He's taken Anakin as his apprentice." Obi-Wan continued, before Padmé asked him questions he couldn't answer. "And Palpatine will see Anakin's child as a threat to the Sith."  
"There can only ever be two…." Padmé murmured. She placed her head in her hands, fighting against the small sob that escaped her. Obi-Wan wrapped his arm around her shoulders. It was small comfort, and he knew it.  
"Please… for Anakin's sake, and for yours. For the sake of your child." He paused. "Tell me where he is. We'll find him together, and we'll bring him back. If he confronts Palpatine with my help, and with Master Yoda's... it may be enough to end this madness."

Padmé nodded, quickly wiping tears from her cheeks. "Obi-Wan… please, just promise me that if he helps you… if he comes back…"  
Obi-Wan's stomach sank. He might be about to make a promise he couldn't keep.  
"...don't kill him." She pleaded, clutching his hands in hers. The Jedi wanted to look away, but her hazel eyes drew him in with the intensity of a magnet. "Let us run away. We'll go anywhere you tell us and we'll start over, raise our family…."

Obi-Wan nodded, a great weight lifted from his shoulders. This much, he could promise. Padmé pulled him into a fierce embrace, relief washing over both of them. Obi-Wan wanted to hide in this moment forever: his friend- his sister, even- by his side, both of them filled with hope.  
_But I can't….  
_Obi-Wan pressed her away gently. "Where is he, Padmé?"  
"Mustafar," she answered.

* * *

***** PRESENT DAY *****

Obi-Wan flinched as a vibrant reptile leapt atop his knee, breaking him out of the trance. He glanced to the horizon. A dusky twilight sky greeted him, made of sprawling purples that almost blended into the jagged mountains. The Jedi Master winced as he stood; the pins and needles in his legs reminded him how long he had been sitting there.  
_Although I don't know if I was meditating, or simply wallowing…._

But he could be certain of one thing: he risked becoming late for his meeting.

A few seemingly endless kilometers later, Obi-Wan was at the assigned rendezvous. Mortae's twisted, skinny mountains were good for more than decoration: they were riddled with a labyrinth of tunnels and caves, each maze connecting to the mountain next to it. They'd been created by the gargantuan beetles that once roamed Mortae- the creatures' natural instinct was to burrow towards heat, and they'd pursued the hot springs that once existed in the mountains' hollow cores. Although both the springs and the beetles had been extinct for centuries, the tunnels still remained.

At last, the Jedi came upon a roughly hewn cave. The cavern was surprisingly well lit, he noted, as he traveled through the range's uneven veins. Obi-Wan glanced up to find the source of the teal glow. It was cast by daylight filtering through various patches of the mountain's thin surface- so thin, that in places, it was translucent. He thanked his lucky stars (a very un-Jedi like practice) that he hadn't placed his feet there.

Sensing that Organa and Mon Mothma just ahead, Obi-Wan continued his trek.

* * *

"You want to do _what?"_ Mon Mothma asked, her mouth agape. Her words resounded, painfully loud, through the cavern. The question seemed to mock Obi-Wan.  
_It's not easy to shock the Rebel Alliance's leader, _the Jedi's thoughts added, _nor is it a feat that reflects well upon me.  
_

In a way, Obi-Wan had also shocked himself with the suggestion. He would never have considered it a day ago.  
_But, _his thoughts mournfully reminded him, _much could happen in the span of a day._

Ten years ago, the entire Jedi Order was destroyed in the course of one night and day, with its few survivors now scattered throughout the galaxy.  
_No…. It didn't happen overnight, _he corrected himself. Chancellor Palpatine's benevolent face swam before his vision. Obi-Wan ran a hand over his weary blue eyes, in hopes of clearing the visage away. But the memories still flashed through his mind: all of Palpatine's private meetings with Anakin, in the name of "mentorship," which slowly turned into-

"_-concern for the young boy," the Chancellor stated in his crisp Coruscanti accent. "I'm not certain the Jedi Order can meet the needs of so bright a student."  
__Obi-Wan saw Anakin stand up a bit straighter, trying to hide a flattered smile. Obi-Wan sent his student a warning glance- the last thing Anakin needed now was the Chancellor stoking his ego.  
_"_We do our best, your excellency," Obi-Wan said with a forced smile._

Palpatine hadn't lured Anakin to the Dark Side overnight. Neither had Obi-Wan's proposition formed in the course of a day. His proposition had formed gradually over the past decade, as each of Vader's victims haunted the Jedi's thoughts. But the idea had merely floated in his subconscious, never surfacing… not until today.

Mon Mothma sat down on a shelf of blue rock, her knees having gone weak. "Assassinating Vader…" Mothma murmured, pinching the bridge of her pale nose. "Obi-Wan, that's…." The words fell away from her. For a moment, there was silence as she closed her eyes, deep in thought.  
"It's foolhardy to say the least." Bail finished for her. Weariness brought a slump to his shoulders. Then Organa drew himself to his full height, using every ounce of his senatorial dignity. "But it will be completely unexpected by Vader, and the rest of the Empire. And I trust Master Kenobi has a good plan." His dark eyes met Obi-Wan's.

Picking up on the cue, Obi-Wan nodded, his hand resting thoughtfully on his chin. "Do you remember the situation surrounding Senator Amidala, ma'am?"  
"I do," she said, her voice strengthening as she stood. "And don't be so formal. It's just the three of us, and it makes things horribly inefficient."  
Bail smiled sadly. "Padmé might have said the same thing."  
Mon Mothma laughed slightly, shaking her head. "She did. In almost those exact words, when we brought up the Delegation of Two Thousand, remember?"  
Organa laughed with her. Obi-Wan smiled, even as he shifted uncomfortably, uncertain of how to break the reminiscence… especially in light of what he would have to reveal.

Organa cleared his throat, sneaking an apologetic look to Obi-Wan. "Forgive me, Master Kenobi… I believe I interrupted."  
Obi-Wan gave him a small nod of gratitude, then turned to face Mon Mothma. "I would ask that you forgive me for keeping this from you." The Jedi began hesitantly. Mon Mothma kept her face clear of any reaction, and simply nodded- but Obi-Wan could sense her trepidation.  
_Best to get it over with, _he decided.

"Senator Amidala was placed on life support shortly after giving birth." The Jedi stated. "We forged her funeral in order to keep her safe from Vader and the Emperor. And to keep her children safe."  
To her credit, Mon Mothma didn't let her jaw drop for a second time in their meeting. Nor did she sit, weak-kneed. She simply stared at Obi-Wan, aghast.  
"She's still alive." She said- it was not a question. Obi-Wan nodded.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_


	2. Regrets, Part 2

***** 4 DAYS UNTIL EMPIRE DAY *****

"Senator Amidala was placed on life support shortly after giving birth." The Jedi stated. "We forged her funeral in order to keep her safe from Vader and the Emperor. And to keep her children safe."  
To her credit, Mon Mothma didn't let her jaw drop for a second time in their meeting. Nor did she sit, weak-kneed. She simply stared at Obi-Wan, aghast.  
"She's still alive." She said- it was not a question. Obi-Wan nodded.

The Jedi Master's mind shifted anxiously. The soothing lines of the Jedi Code offered him nno relief. As the silence stretched onward, old memories rose to fill the void…. Memories that, while relevant, were entirely unwelcome….

* * *

***** 10 YEARS AGO *****

Obi-Wan hunched against the forceful gales of ash and heat. He'd landed his starfighter barely fifty meters from the dark stronghold's entrance, on an official landing pad, but it was a brutal test of will to walk even that far. As the winds picked up again and blew an oppressive wave of heat into his face, the Jedi fought for purchase on the durasteel walkway. Mustufar was a volcanic planet, and glowing rivers of lava churned threateningly beneath the smooth bridge Obi-Wan stood on. Should he slip, he'd-

He set his gaze firmly on the door to the keep, fifty meters ahead. He refused to think about anything but his next footstep.  
"Nearly there," he managed to say, almost choking on the scalding ash that swirled into his throat. Padmé nodded. Her weak lungs could barely take in the fiery air. She had buried her face in his robe in an attempt to hide from the hellish landscape, and her small hands clutched his shoulders; her feet slipped out from under her every third step. Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around her firmly, half guiding and half dragging her up to the stronghold.

His droid had located Anakin's starfighter soon after Obi-Wan had brought his own into orbit. Each Jedi starfighter was equipped with a beacon that allowed other ships from the Order to locate it- and although this meant Obi-Wan could find Anakin easily, it also meant that Anakin knew he was coming. It was a good omen that the Sith apprentice hadn't tried to shoot Obi-Wan's starfighter down.

Still, for caution's sake, the Jedi Master had set his ship down on the landing pad farthest from Anakin's starfighter. Obi-Wan mentally crossed his fingers, stumbling toward the doorway of the blackened fortress. The fact that the Jedi Master was still alive was certainly a good sign….  
_Unless he's setting a trap for me.  
_In which case, Padmé's presence might just deter Anakin from springing it.

Obi-Wan slapped a hand haphazardly against an access panel, coughing as another gust of wind blew black, crystalline sand into his lungs. The durasteel door ponderously lifted open.  
_And not a moment too soon…._ He felt as if his lungs were being cooked. He couldn't imagine how the smothering atmosphere must have felt to Padmé. He gently pulled her away from his chest, and helped her stagger through the dim doorway. He didn't bother to speak- the howling winds would have stolen his words.

Obi-Wan stumbled into the fortress after her. The thick door lowered down behind him, emitting a low groan too quiet to cover Padmé's horrified gasp. The Jedi darted around her trembling figure, igniting his blue lightsaber as his eyes searched for the threat. He had sensed no danger-  
And a second later, he realized why. Corpses could not harm them.

His mind took the scene in as fractured pieces, like a macabre kaleidoscope. To witness the entire carnage at once would have been too much. First he saw a Separatist leader slung sideways over a chair, completely still- then he saw the other aliens lying face down on the taupe slabs of floor, their bodies warmer than the permacrete. Then he saw the lightsaber wounds in all of them.

"I'm so sorry. This was a mistake." He murmured to Padmé. He was about to shepherd her back out to his starfighter, when a cloaked figure appeared in the next room. Obi-Wan clutched his lightsaber so tightly his knuckles turned pale. The threatening shadow crossed beneath a yellow light…. And Obi-Wan realized it was Anakin. His presence was too twisted to be recognized, and only his face gave away his identity. Anakin was unharmed, his appearance the same as the last time Obi-Wan had seen him- save for the Sith apprentice's eyes. They glowed amber.

"Padmé? Are you alright, are you hurt? Obi-Wan, she shouldn't be out of bed, she's-" Anakin frantically began, pulling off his dark hood. He raced through the doorway without a moment's acknowledgement of the Separatists' corpses.  
"That's far enough." Obi-Wan warned him. He swallowed tightly, trying to work a bit of moisture back into his dry mouth.  
"I'm her husband, Obi-Wan." Anakin responded, anger rippling beneath his tone. "And her child's father. I have every right to be with her." He edged his way down the long conference table that divided the room. Obi-Wan placed himself squarely between Padmé and Anakin, leveling his lightsaber at the latter.  
"You lost that right the moment you did… this," Obi-Wan gestured around the room in disgust.

Anakin's yellow eyes burned even brighter. The Sith continued stonily onward, making no attempt to draw his blade, even as the bright point of Obi-Wan's lightsaber drew perilously close to the apprentice's chest.  
Not for the first time that day, Obi-Wan found his hands were trembling.  
_You can't fight Anakin freely. Not when you're pinned between him and Padmé.  
_Despite all his efforts to avoid a trap, the Jedi had created his own.

Anakin had obviously realized that same fact- a triumphant smile traced his lips, even as he stood only two bare centimeters from the point of Obi-Wan's blue blade.  
"Do it then," Anakin whispered. His gold eyes flicked over Obi-Wan's shoulder to Padmé, and for a moment the Sith's gaze emitted only comfort, concern, and reassurance. Until his eyes returned to the Jedi Master. Then hatred leaked out of them once more, as tangible as acid running down Obi-Wan's throat.  
Those Sith eyes challenged him, mocked him even, as Anakin said in a low voice: "Show Padmé what the Jedi really are."

"I'm not here to murder you, Anakin," Obi-Wan replied with a conviction he only shakily felt. "It's not too late. You can turn back."  
Obi-Wan's blue eyes pleaded with him: _Please, turn back.  
_"Help me destroy Palpatine," the Jedi Master continued. "I've given Padmé my word that if you do, you'll be allowed to live out your days in exile."

Anakin burst out laughing- it was not humorless, nor was it insane or maniacal: it was real, genuine laughter. The Sith looked from Obi-Wan to Padmé, and back, as if waiting for them to get the joke.  
"Exile?" Anakin asked him, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. "I'm second-in-command of the Empire. I can finally protect my family. I've ended the Clone War, I've brought peace to the galaxy- and you want me to throw it all away for _exile?_" Before Obi-Wan could respond, Anakin continued: "You drag my pregnant wife into danger, and you expect me to trust you?" The Sith's voice had hardened like the stone they stood on. Despite Mustufar's heat, the room was suddenly as cold as a dead star.

Anakin's fingers twitched toward his lightsaber. Obi-Wan reacted like a current of light, his blade jabbing another precious centimeter toward Anakin's heart. But the Sith made no farther move; he simply stood there, arms relaxed at his sides, cynically eyeing the Jedi's weapon. It was so close to Anakin that it singed his black tunic, burning a tiny hole through the thick fabric.

Once again, Anakin's gaze shifted over Obi-Wan's shoulder.  
"You can sit, sweetheart. It's alright." Anakin murmured to Padmé. For a moment his tone was so compassionate- so human, even- that it cut Obi-Wan to the quick.  
_He is your brother!  
He is a Sith Lord.  
Worse… he is both._

Obi-Wan sensed, rather than saw, Padmé move out from behind him. She lurched forward to the conference table like a drunk, her quivering legs about to give out from beneath her.  
_-a trick, it's a ploy, keep your eyes on Anakin; he will twist this just like he's twisted everything else-_

The Jedi watched Anakin with as much concern as the latter watched his wife. The brother's tense standoff at the end of the conference table dragged on- Anakin still strangely nonplussed by the blade at his heart, Obi-Wan still racing to understand the Sith's tactics. A dull scrape echoed through the chamber as Padmé dragged a chair back from the table. She collapsed into it as an exhausted heap of limbs, her head resting in both hands, her heavy breathing just barely audible above Obi-Wan's drumming heartbeat.  
_There is no hidden tactic, _Obi-Wan realized. _He's simply concerned for her._

But at that same moment, as the Jedi's attention wavered, Anakin used the Force to disalign Obi-Wan's lightsaber. Too late, Obi-Wan jabbed the blade forward; Anakin had already twisted down and to the side. The Sith dove across the conference table, rolling to land behind Padmé's chair.

She gasped in belated horror. The whole exchange had taken barely a second, and by the time she'd snapped her head up, the scene was nearly over. Anakin pressed a hand to her shoulder, gently keeping her in the high-backed chair.  
"It's okay," He murmured low into her ear, but Obi-Wan still heard the words. "I'm so sorry Padmé, I never should have left you alone. I won't let him hurt you. Either of you." Anakin's amber eyes drifted down to her stomach, where their child rested- perhaps the young one sensed his mother's terror, perhaps he was perfectly oblivious to the horrors unfolding around him.

"Anakin… please. You know Obi-Wan, we've both known him for years. He'd never hurt us. He wants to help us- all three of us- if we'll let him." Padmé twisted around to face her husband, her caramel eyes pleading with him. "You don't have to do this. Come away with me. We can go anywhere you want; we'll run away, just like you've always wanted-"  
"We don't have to run anymore, Padmé." Anakin said quietly, squeezing her hand. "I know what the Jedi told you- I know what _I've _told you- about the Sith, but I was wrong. Some of them were evil, but it's not that simple."  
"Some of them- _Anakin,_" Padmé said, her face sheet white, her lower lip trembling. "Anakin, you know what the Sith are. They're like Darth Maul, and Count Dooku, and what Palpatine asked you to do here-"  
"I know, I know," He soothed her. His thumb traced soft circles over the back of her hand. "But things can be different now, Padmé. Now's our chance to change all that. The Chancellor and I-"

"The Emperor, you mean." Obi-Wan broke in. He'd observed the conversation carefully, and it was clear that Anakin wouldn't let anyone change his mind- not even his wife. The best thing the Jedi Master could do now was get Padmé- and her child- somewhere safe, as soon as possible.  
_If Anakin will ever let them go….  
_"Stay out of this." Anakin said to him coldly, his hateful eyes cast over Obi-Wan's somewhat haggard figure.  
"Palpatine seized power for himself, and he manipulated all of us to do it. And he's still manipulating you, Anakin!" Obi-Wan shouted hoarsely, all semblance of serenity or peace slipping away from him.  
"It doesn't have to be this way." Anakin said. And for once, his voice sounded… normal.  
_Like it was before I left for Utupau._

"You can join us, Obi-Wan. Help us bring a reign of peace to the galaxy." Anakin said. He straightened up, extending a hand. Obi-Wan realized numbly that he was expected to hand over his lightsaber.  
"I…" Obi-Wan started brokenly, shaking his head. "I could never, Anakin. You know I can't."  
Anakin was silent.

Then the Sith knelt beside Padmé, whispering something in her ear. This time, Obi-Wan couldn't hear Anakin's voice. But the Jedi Master managed- just barely managed- to read his lips:  
"_Can you make it to a ship?"_ Anakin whispered.  
"Not on my own." Padmé whispered back, her eyes wide with fear.  
"Stay here," Anakin said at a normal volume. "I'll come back for you. I promise."  
"Anakin, please... please, you don't have to do this." Padmé begged. Anakin bent down to kiss her, his hand cupping her cheek.

Obi-Wan felt a hot flash of embarrassment, and looked away briefly- it felt wrong, somehow, to intrude upon such an intimate moment. When he lifted his blue eyes again, Anakin had pulled away from his wife, the back of his hand brushing a stray curl out of her face.  
"I love you," Anakin said, not caring who heard.  
"I love you, too." Padmé murmured, fighting back the hot tears in her eyes.  
_This can't be it, _Obi-Wan watched the scene play out in disbelief. _He can't just let her go, let their child go…. Can he?_

Anakin turned to face Obi-Wan, drawing his lightsaber.  
"Let's take this outside." The Sith said coldly, and although his face matched Anakin Skywalker's, there was nothing in his voice to indicate he was the same man. No…. Obi-Wan would be fighting Darth Vader. Perhaps it was for the best. Obi-Wan wasn't certain he could fight his brother.

Obi-Wan nodded, drawing his own weapon as he accepted the Sith's challenge. Then he followed Vader out into Mustufar's hellish landscape, the Jedi Master knowing he'd already given up an advantage by letting Vader lead the way….

The rest of Mustufar's events became a blur of light, color, and sound- the battle began the instant the door of the ebony stronghold closed behind Obi-Wan, and then all he was aware of was the deadly hum of Vader's blue lightsaber as it twirled before his face, and the roar of the glowing lava rivers that flowed around them; a million sparks shot into the thick air and singed their clothing, waves of ash and heat blew over them so strongly it seemed impossible to stand. The hard, smooth soles of his boots slipped as he worked his way across pipes and wires, leaping from balcony to balcony, all while Vader advanced so rapidly it seemed he was more machine than man.

At last, Obi-Wan seized an advantage- or if not an advantage, then at least a brief respite. A quick feint allowed him to leap away from the furious battle, to the top of a small cliff overlooking the rivers of boiling lava. Vader, knowing Obi-Wan had too much of a head start for the Sith to safely pursue him, simply paced on the riverbank beneath his former master. Obi-Wan desperately struggled to think of something to say- anything that might stall his former apprentice. But the Jedi Master was gasping for breath, clutching the stitch in his side. Speech was impossible. As was defeating Vader…. At least, defeating him in straightforward combat.

Vader looked up at his former master in disgust. It might have been disgust for weakness, or retreat, or cleverness; Obi-Wan didn't care which. All the Jedi cared about was that Vader now had a chance to walk away. A chance to head straight back to stronghold without Obi-Wan in his path. A chance for the Sith to take Padmé and their child, destroying what might be the Jedi Order's last hope.

With a final scoff at his former master's escape, Vader summoned a nearby platform floating on the molten rivers. It came to him swiftly, dripping lava off its small base, and settled at the edge of the black, sandy banks. As Vader backed away, the right words finally came to Obi-Wan.  
"Go on, Vader," he gasped out, the howling wind tearing at his words. "Prove how weak you are."

Vader paused. He eyed the cliff face critically, and Obi-Wan could feel the Sith's mind spinning, calculating the distance of the jump, the odds of Obi-Wan cutting him down before the Sith found a solid footing.  
"Go tell your master you were beaten by a tired old Jedi," Obi-Wan goaded him. Vader continued to weigh the odds in his mind, his face as clear as a mask.  
"Go tell Padmé how I won." Obi-Wan shouted down at him, opening his arms in a blatant challenge, before returning to a defensive stance. Vader's eyes flashed with clean, sharp fury- and Obi-Wan knew he had won.

Vader crouched low, saber raised, coiled like a deadly viper. Then he sprung straight up, spinning his blue blade defensively above his head; his nimble leap came to its peak a third of the way up the cliff, but rather than fall in defeat, Vader kicked his boot into a solid foothold and continued his breakneck ascent. He made the next leap at twice the speed, and Obi-Wan squinted against Mustufar's blinding red glow, ready to cut Vader down as the Sith planted both feet on another foothold-

And stopped. Vader pressed himself as close to the cliff face as he could, an arm wrapped protectively over the back of his head. And with a sudden flash of insight, Obi-Wan realized why. The Jedi threw himself sideways as Vader sent a mammoth wave of lava high over the cliff face.

_It's too late,_ Obi-Wan thought as his stomach sank, even as he scrambled away from the rush of bone-melting heat. Although Obi-Wan's attention had been focused on Vader's ascent, the Sith never planned to rush into such an obvious trap. Instead, Vader had exploited the most obvious advantage of their terrain: the rivers of lava flowing all around them.  
_Arrogance, _Qui-Gon's voice floated back to him, _is even more lethal than hatred. You must strive to avoid both, not only the latter._

Obi-Wan threw himself over the side of the cliff, using the Force to propel his desperate escape. The ground charged up to meet his flailing leap. The wave of lava twisted to meet the Jedi's new course, and Obi-Wan called upon the Force to press the scorching liquid back toward Vader- but his effort was in vain. Vader was able to focus all his energies on directing the wave, while Obi-Wan could only give partial effort. The Jedi still had to focus on slowing his fall if he didn't want to perish upon impact with the black, glassy banks. The Sith quickly overpowered Obi-Wan's feeble attempt as the Jedi resignedly focused on slowing his fall, turning so that the lava would hit only his side, and not his entire body-

The ground slammed into him with limb-shattering force. Obi-Wan gasped as lightning-hot streaks of pain flashed from his toes to his knee, tears automatically spilling into his eyes. He twisted frantically around to see a wall of lava racing toward him with unnatural swiftness. Obi-Wan tried to stand, but his ankle gave out beneath him with a loud, agonizing crack.  
_There is no emotion; there is peace.  
_His chest heaved with labored breaths as he dragged himself along the bank, feeling the glassy sand slip through his fingers.  
_There is no passion; there is serenity.  
_Obi-Wan closed his eyes as he gave in, trusting the Force as he laid still on Mustufar's unforgiving terrain.  
_There is no death; there is the Force.  
_As the wave of lava crashed atop him, he used his remaining strength to create a Force barrier around himself, calmly allowing the Force to do what he could not.

The molten, bubbling rock began to flow over his Force barrier, with Obi-Wan safe on the sand beneath it. His heart thundered, and his head spun- the boiling liquid was less than half a meter above his face, which was far closer than he would have liked it. The Jedi held as still as he could, not daring to waste a drop of energy, not when he was trapped in such a vulnerable position. Even so, he felt the last dregs of his strength begin to ebb away. It caused the barrier to dip and warp, and it brought the lava much closer to Obi-Wan. It was nearly touching him now, only centimeters away, and the boiling heat was almost too much to endure. The pain pulled his focus away from creating the barrier. His Force barrier was not only warping now, but nearly collapsing- just enough for three large, scalding drips of the molten liquid to drip onto his thigh. Obi-Wan gasped as the lava burned through to his bone; screaming would do nothing to combat the agony.  
_There is no passion; there is serenity.  
There is no…. Focus. Focus. Focus!_

Vader was leaving. Obi-Wan could sense the cold, determined presence drawing away, and he could hear the crunch of the Sith's boots on the sand as he left Obi-Wan to die.  
_This is my last chance.  
_It was- he knew it in the same, unshakable sense that he knew the Force existed, or that in a few more seconds he would burn to death, or that-  
-_that I still have a way to defeat Vader._

He would have to do it quickly. Now, before the Sith sensed his intentions.  
_Even if it kills me, _he thought grimly. If he followed through with his plan, he would have to pull his focus away from maintaining the Force barrier. Something he was having enough trouble maintaining as it was.  
_There is no death; there is the Force.  
_Qui-Gon's voice echoed through his mind: _Be ready. Three… two… now!_

Although Obi-Wan could not see through the curtain of lava that flowed above him, the Force granted him an unnatural spacial awareness of the scene- so strong and sudden an awareness that Obi-Wan could swear Qui-Gon had returned to strengthen him. As Vader leapt off of the riverbank, the Sith prepared to land on a small platform floating in the shallows of the molten river. And as Vader landed, Obi-Wan swiftly used the Force to crush the small repulsor lifts that kept the platform afloat.

Vader howled in agony as he sank up to his knees in the boiling magma; the sound was echoed by Obi-Wan's scream as his Force barrier partially collapsed. A sheet of lava crashed down onto his left side.  
_There is no passion there is no passion there is no death no passion no emotion-_

The Jedi yelled until his throat was raw, forcing himself onto his hands and knees as he crawled away from the lava lapping over his left side. By chance, or because Vader lost control of the lava, or even because Qui-Gon somehow intervened, nearly all of the magma had flowed over the Force barrier by the time it collapsed. The sheet of lava that had fallen on his left side had been the very last of it, and to Obi-Wan's right side, there was clear ground to escape to. Had Obi-Wan faltered even seconds earlier, he would have been dead, but….  
_There is no death; there is the Force.  
Oh, thank the Force, thank you; I'm alive, thank you…._

Obi-Wan looked out into the true river of lava- not the man-made one that had flowed over him- and was transfixed by the horrific scene. Vader was staggering back toward the shore, his mouth twisted open in a silent scream. Flames licked the Sith's black clothing; they ate away at cloth and flesh indiscriminately. Vader seemed to be sinking into the lava, although he was moving toward a shallower area, and Obi-Wan soon saw why: the heat had begun to melt away Vader's legs. Though the Sith did his best to shield himself- as Obi-Wan had- Vader had begun to do so too late. It would not be enough. Not for much longer.  
_Don't let him die,_ the Jedi's conscience prodded. _Not like this._

Obi-Wan winced as he sat up, his whole body quivering from the pain. Though he'd rolled out of the lava quick enough to avoid being melted, the left half of his torso was charred and blistered, his tunic seared away to reveal the marred flesh.  
_No time to dwell on it._

Raising his hand, which felt as if it were filled with lead, the Jedi used the Force to pull Vader out of the lava, setting him at a safe distance from it on the riverbank. Breathing heavily, Obi-Wan crawled over to him. It was far easier said than done- his left leg was numb and unresponsive, his torso burned as if the lava still flowed over him, and his head was pounding. Whatever pain the adrenaline rush had numbed, now returned in full force: it came in dull aches as bruises formed, and in how his muscles ached with exhaustion, and how he could barely keep himself from collapsing in the dark sand.

He'd barely survived the battle, much less won it. He'd nearly lost when he'd underestimated Vader's intelligence, and had Vader not fallen prey to the same arrogance, Obi-Wan would have been nothing but a mass of charred bones by now. But instead, it was Vader who wriggled on the black, glassy ground like a leech. The Sith groaned as fire continued to dance across him- he was half-dead already. There was nothing Obi-Wan could do. The Jedi blinked back tears.  
"You were my brother, Anakin," Obi-Wan whispered- yet somehow he knew that Vader heard. "I loved you."

With a groan, Obi-Wan pushed himself to his feet, favoring his right leg heavily. His left ankle must have been sprained, at least, if not broken; it would hardly hold his weight. As he turned to face the stronghold where Padmé waited, he saw Vader's blue lightsaber, abandoned at the edge of the magma river.  
_He must have thrown it there when the platform collapsed,_ he realized numbly. Even while burning in the scorching lava, Vader still thought he had a chance to continue the battle.  
_Arrogance… _Qui-Gon's voice echoed again, _more lethal than hatred..._

Obi-Wan moved to pick it up, wincing as he bent over- then thought better of it, and called it to him with the Force. Left alone, it would be picked up by some smuggler, and sold on the black market….

His thoughts dissolved into a gray haze as he tightly clutched the relic. One last time, Obi-Wan stared down at his old apprentice. Vader was barely conscious, barely moving, only twitching slightly…. Obi-Wan doubted the Sith could feel the pain anymore. The Jedi Master had no need to end it for him. And besides that, if Obi-Wan walked down to the edge of the riverbank, he wasn't sure he could bring himself to walk away…. Or if he would even have the physical strength to climb back up the incline.

The Jedi turned his back, regret tugging heavily at his heart.

His walk back to the stronghold was a hazy blur. The pain had numbed into a dull throb, and it turned out his ankle was neither sprained nor broken- whatever injury had occurred, he'd managed to walk it off.

He was halfway back to the stronghold when the first turbolaser fired.

Obi-Wan leapt forward on instinct as a hail of turbolaser bolts fired at him from above, but they hit only the ground, sending black sand and ash and fist-sized chunks of rock into the air. He looked up in shock to see several Imperial shuttles swoop into Mustufar's muddy sky, the clones inside firing at Obi-Wan with a vengeance. The Jedi bolted to the stronghold at a breakneck pace; he could feel the searing heat of the lasers as they sizzled past him. Obi-Wan ducked and weaved, somersaulted and sprang into the air, anything that would allow him to reach Padmé and her child before the Emperor did. Pain was now a distant memory, and panic was the present, sheer terror running through his veins like ice water.

He sensed, rather than saw, one of the shuttles land at Vader's location. Now there were only two left to attack Obi-Wan; the Jedi gritted his teeth and sprinted to the ebony fortress. He was vaguely aware that he was shouting into a comlink, ordering R4 to ready the starfighter and pick up him and Padmé at the door. Obi-Wan skidded to an abrupt halt as a row of turbolaser bolts cut across his path. A second round, from the other shuttle, cut behind him. Obi-Wan leapt behind a tall outcropping of rock, ducked around it, and timed his next move…. The tall fortress was just ahead. A few good leaps would get him there….  
_Now!_

He darted out from his hiding place as both shuttles fired on the outcropping, reducing it to dust. The Jedi flew forward for all he was worth, feeling the sand fly out behind his heels-  
"_NOOOOOOO!" _Vader screamed, and even from this distance, Obi-Wan could feel his fury and terror, could hear it in every anguished cry. "_NOOOOOO!"_

A heartbeat later, Obi-Wan realized why. The next turbolasers had fired far ahead of the Jedi Master, overcompensating for Obi-Wan's speed. The turbolasers squarely hit the base of the black fortress. It crumbled into rubble. Obi-Wan raced into the ruin, not caring about the lasers dancing around him, not caring that they were so close they bit away pieces of his tunic.

Vader's raw cries lost all meaning. They were unintelligible sounds of grief, and rage, and pain…. They echoed through the hollow arcs of stone as Obi-Wan ducked into the remains of the fortress, nearly suffocating from the swirls of dust and sand.

A final volley of turbolasers swept over Obi-Wan's location. The Jedi ducked beneath the thickest pile of rubble, creating one last Force barrier to protect himself as the black rock above him was vaporized. Then there was silence.  
_They think I'm dead.  
_He felt dead.

Obi-Wan crawled deeper into the pile of rubble, squinting in the pitch-black labyrinth. The fortress had been monumentally tall, and although it had collapsed, the ruin was far from a flat expanse. The dark stones had piled up in a chaotic travesty of a building, offering an unsolvable maze within it.

"Padmé?" He wheezed, coughing out the ash in his lungs. He squeezed between two cracked pillars, maneuvering by touch rather than sight. Obi-Wan turned around as a small whimper caught his attention. Padmé was pinned beneath a heavy stone pillar, her face ashen. The former senator was kneeling in the dust, curling her body protectively over her stomach, coughing blood onto the stone slabs. Obi-Wan strained to lift the pillar with the aid of the Force, but only managed to shift it a few inches- the pile of rubble weighed upon it too heavily. Still, it was enough. She collapsed immediately, curled up on her side in the dust, her face clear of any of the trauma they'd just endured together.

The rest became a nightmarish blur. R4 had activated Obi-Wan's red starfighter, as promised. The droid used the ship to blast away a large portion of the rubble, enabling the Jedi to carry Padmé safely out. He remembered clambering into the ship with Padmé limp in his arms, then rapidly setting coordinates for the nearest medical facility- Polis Massa.  
_Please don't let her die like this,_ he remembered pleading with the Force. _Not like this._

There was a frantic scramble to escape the Mustufar system, as two Imperial shuttles fired at them, followed by an equally frantic race to Polis Massa. Obi-Wan called Senator Organa and Grandmaster Yoda on the way, and they were waiting for him at the mining colony when he arrived.

The three of them rushed Padmé to the med bay, where the med droid delivered the final blow: Senator Amidala was severely injured. An operation to save her children was possible- _Children? Twins?_ He remembered thinking- but Padmé wouldn't survive. The news stunned him. So much so, that he refused to believe it. There had to be something, anything, that the med droids could do….  
"No," Padmé sobbed. "Save my baby, please; please just help him, we're wasting time-"

The three of them soothed her while the droids prepped for the operation, but only Obi-Wan stayed with her to the end. An anesthetic had been out of the question; she was so weak the medicine would have killed her then and there. So he held her hand, and tried to numb her pain with the Force.

At some point, her heart stopped. Obi-Wan had held her children in his arms, not knowing what to do, or where to go, or whether he should be doing anything in the first place…. But his mind was clear enough to give the med droids permission to place Padmé on life support- if there was any chance left to save her, he would take it.

She was then reported dead, along with her unborn son. Although both Luke and Leia had survived, there was no reason to say so- or even to say that the senator had been carrying twins. Her children would both be safer if no one knew there were two of them.

Padmé's funeral was forged with the help of Sabé: the senator's close friend, and former handmaiden and body double. The real Padmé had never left a locked room in the depths of Polis Massa. The med droids said she would never wake up. Obi-Wan had asked that they keep her on life support anyway- at least until he concluded his search for a way to help her.

_I brought her there. I brought her there and it killed her._ That was the thought that haunted him for the coming weeks, and it was the thought that motivated him to begin what he knew would be a fruitless search. At least, he _thought_ he knew it would be a fruitless search. In reality, he came across a small green necklace three months later. Passed around on the black market at an obscene price, its current owner claimed it was a healing amulet from the extinct Nightsisters of Dathomir, able to channel spirits with the strength to wake the dead. And to his astonishment, Obi-Wan realized the sketchy dealer was correct. Fortunately, a quick Jedi mind trick relieved the weak-minded owner of the amulet.

Obi-Wan returned to Polis Massa with hopes of reviving Padmé, deeply happy for the first time in months- only to find his path intercepted by Grandmaster Yoda. The wrinkled green alien was waiting Obi-Wan in Padmé's hidden room. The Grandmaster had bowed his head in sorrow.  
"A great good, this would be, Obi-Wan," Yoda said, "but not one we should pursue."  
"Master?" Obi-Wan questioned, feeling as vulnerable as a child. After all the pain, all the darkness he'd endured at Mustufar and afterward, a single slice of hope had appeared in this amulet.  
_And I am not to pursue it?_

"Too weak, is Senator Amidala's presence, to be sensed by Vader and the Emperor." The wise master answered him. "In danger, will the children be, if Vader realizes their mother is alive. Wake her, we shall not." Yoda consolingly placed a three-clawed hand atop Obi-Wan's.  
"But, Master, I…" Obi-Wan bowed his head in deference, hoping to hide his embarrassment. "Of course, Master. I understand."  
"Someday, Obi-Wan…." Yoda said, closing his eyes as he reached into the Force. "But today, we shall not."

* * *

***** PRESENT DAY *****

Then the rebel leader turned to face Organa.  
"Did you know?" Mon Mothma asked, her words as calm and smooth as ice.  
"I did." Bail confessed in a slow, measured tone. "It was Master Yoda's belief that the fewer who knew of this, the safer she would be."  
Mon Mothma was silent, her pale eyes boring into the blue expanse of stone between Obi-Wan and Organa.

"And I take it that… this information, Senator Amidala's survival… it applies to your plan to assassinate Vader?" Mon Mothma finally broke the strained quiet.  
"It does." Obi-Wan answered, knowing he'd be eternally grateful for Mon Mothma's professionalism. All three of them had been Padmé's friends, and for Mothma alone to be kept out of the loop was….  
_There's no time to worry about that now. Focus on the question._

"With your permission, and with Master Yoda's, I would-" Obi-Wan began.  
"No. Please," Mon Mothma interrupted. "I understand why you kept Padmé's survival a secret. I would ask to remain uninformed of this plan, as well." She finally met Obi-Wan's eyes, and Bail's, in turn. Her steely gaze left no room for argument. "The fewer who know of this, the better." Mon Mothma concluded. "But if I might make one amendment to your plan, whatever it may be..."

Obi-Wan and Bail both nodded in agreement.  
"Operate under Ghost Protocol whenever possible. Vader won't give us a second chance to kill him if we fail." She nodded to them in dismissal. "May the Force be with you both."

Obi-Wan bowed his head respectfully before he leaving the cavern, beginning his long walk back to the spaceport- a walk he'd now have to make in the dark. But despite the wearying journey, and despite the grim nature of his mission, he felt as if a great weight had suddenly fallen off his shoulders. A thousand deaths had occurred because of his mistakes (albeit indirectly, through Vader). This was the Jedi's chance to prevent a thousand more.

_Ghost Protocol…._ Mon Mothma's final words echoed through his mind. It meant radio silence, minimal contact with anyone outside the chosen rebel crew, and complete anonymity.  
_No, it went beyond anonymity…._

Rebel technicians had created ten prototypes of a highly advanced cloaking device- one that wouldn't have reduced effects when surrounded by neon lights or blaster fire, and one that would fool all species (not merely humans). It could produce a low hum that prevented the user's breathing, heartbeat, and footsteps from being detected, even by the best scanners. And it could bend even the brightest light in a way that stopped the user from casting a shadow. The prototypes were ridiculously expensive, and not just from an underground organization's standpoint. But they would, in effect, turn any user into a perfect ghost- thus, using the prototypes was dubbed "Ghost Protocol."

So far, no mission had been deemed risky enough to merit use of the priceless machines. This would be their first use in the field, and any number of issues could arise…. But it was a risk the Jedi Master would have to take.

He now had a mission, Mon Mothma's approval to carry it out, and the means to complete it- Senator Organa even had a specific rebel team in mind. Now all Obi-Wan needed was a plan.  
_And a diversion…._

Obi-Wan continued the long trek to the spaceport at a decent clip, feeling better than he had in years.  
_Ghost Protocol… what a fitting way to operate…._

After all, who better to distract Darth Vader than a ghost herself? How could Vader possibly ignore the long dead Padmé Amidala appearing in the flesh?

Obi-Wan pulled out his comm, and called the spaceport- he needed to book a seat on the next flight to Polis Massa. The Jedi Master had a plan…. Now all he had to do was bring Padmé into it.


	3. Hopes

***** 3 DAYS UNTIL EMPIRE DAY *****

Polis Massa's medical facility was just as Obi-Wan remembered it. It was built of long, white corridors that overflowed with viewports, which overlooked a pockmarked asteroid. The Jedi could catch a glimpse of various creatures in vac suits roaming the asteroid's rocky surface, or of med droids whizzing from room to room. It was hardly a homey place, but it wasn't entirely unwelcoming, either.

This facility wasn't designed for long-term patients, and the most serious cases were transferred to better equipped systems. It was the last place anyone would look for a comatose, supposedly-dead senator. This hadn't deterred Obi-Wan and Bail from taking serious precautions. Padmé's room was tucked away in a corner of the sublevel storage wing, behind a maze built with dusty crates of bandages and teetering shelves of equipment. The labyrinth had become so complex that only med droids could navigate it- unless someone, like Obi-Wan, had memorized the proper route ahead of time.

Obi-Wan rode an obviously outdated turbolift down to the sublevel, and carefully navigated through the shelves of storage units. The overhead lighting was very dim- why waste electricity when only droids came here?- and turned the simple act of walking into a precarious task. He'd hate to bump into the flimsy shelves. They were so high he had to crane his neck to see the top, and they could barely support the weight of the durasteel crates packed onto them; it looked as if the slightest touch would cause the entire structure to collapse atop him.

But the journey passed without incident, and after a few false turns, Obi-Wan found Padmé's quarters. Her room was guarded by a thick, clumsy door, and a bulky lock the size of his head. The entrance matched the appearance of numerous storage closets in the sublevel, which were used to keep medicines at the proper temperature- this was mostly because Padmé's secret room was, in fact, a converted storage closet.

_Not that I need to tell her that…._

The Jedi almost laughed.

_Oh, what Vader would do to me if he knew I've had his wife locked in a closet all these years…._

The Jedi Master brushed his sleeve lightly atop the dust-coated keypad. Finally able to make out the numbers, he punched in the proper combination, and was rewarded as the door gradually slipped open.

Padmé's room would have passed even a Coruscant hospital's standard of cleanliness. The deep gray floor was clear of footprints, and there wasn't a crumb in sight. The overhead lights, while bright and harsh, succeeded in illuminating the area- it was a shame there wasn't much to illuminate. The former senator's room was clear of the usual hospital trappings: there were no "Get Well Soon!" cards lying open on her nightstand, and no flowers had the misfortune of being trapped in the windowless space. Instead, her converted closet held only a standard hospital cot, surrounded by a plethora of life support devices. Although the loud machines added no warmth to the room, Padmé's blankets were woven with a cheery floral pattern. Obi-Wan knew that med droids had an acceptable bedside manner; perhaps they were also programmed to give comforts such as these to long-term patients. Although Padmé wasn't able to be comforted by it, it brought some much-needed warmth into Obi-Wan's heart.

He sat beside her on the bed and took her hand, as he had so many years ago. But the memories didn't flood back as they had the day before. For once, his mind was clear. Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief as the peace washed over him.

_But once again,_ his thoughts warned him, _it may only be the calm before the storm._

That thought stayed with the Jedi as he listened to Padmé's steady breaths. A clear oxygen mask rested over her mouth and nose- and although Obi-Wan knew it was transparent, the mask reflected the dark walls of the closet, which turned the mask a deep gray… almost black, like Vader's mask….

_Kkkk-ksshhh….. Kkkk-ksshh…._

Padmé's deep, even breaths filled the room, and Obi-Wan sat there for a long time.

At last, he knelt on the hard floor, and reached beneath the bed. If he remembered correctly, he and Bail had installed a hidden compartment in the floor right… _there._ Obi-Wan slipped his fingernails into the invisible seam, and pried the durasteel panel loose. Underneath it, in a shallow compartment, rested the healing amulet from Dathomir. The Jedi felt the weight of the green stone in his palm. He replaced the compartment's durasteel cover, and returned to sit at Padmé's side, his thoughts drifting to the future.

Master Yoda would arrive at Polis Massa soon, ready to help Obi-Wan wake his friend; Bail Organa would arrive shortly after, along with the team he'd chosen to carry out this mission. While the Jedi used the healing amulet to draw Padmé out of her coma, Bail and his team would formally compose a plan- Obi-Wan had given Bail a brief outline, but they would need to flesh out the details.

Obi-Wan had barely slept on the flight to Polis Massa, his mind spinning with additions to his plan, and even now his thoughts refused to let the matter rest….

_Empire day…. What was it the reporter said, back in the cantina?_

"_A military procession showcasing the Empire's newly utilized weapon, the AT-AT, will march from their storehouse up to the Imperial Palace…."_

An idea flashed into his mind- an idea that just might work, if Bail's team could help the Jedi pull it off. It would have to be done on Coruscant, and on Empire Day. It was a terrible risk: heading to the Imperial Capital on its most lavish holiday. But if they operated under Ghost Protocol… it could work.

_We might actually make it out alive._

There were many questions left to be answered, but for the moment, the Jedi only gave his attention to two of them. The first was how long it would take to wake Padmé- could it be done before Empire Day, now only three days away?

_I suppose I'll have that answer soon enough, once Master Yoda arrives…._

Then there was the second question: how long Vader and the Emperor would be fooled by Padmé's "death," once she was awake- and once she was on Coruscant, in the heart of the Sith's territory.

_I suppose I'll have that answer soon, as well…._

* * *

***** 3 DAYS LATER: EMPIRE DAY *****

Vader narrowed his yellow eyes as soon as he opened them, but it did little to shut out the harsh light of his meditation chamber. It did not matter- this hexagonal pod was meant to support life, not make it comfortable. The Dark Lord straightened in the hard, cold seat, pulling himself out of a red haze of nightmares. Vader would have glanced at a chronometer, but there was none to be seen; he kept track of time using only a display cast inside the lenses of his helmet. Besides that fact, there would be little point in checking the time: the Sith knew he could manage to obtain only a few hours of sleep.

He slept little, in part because it was a matter of principle. Sleep was a luxury he could not afford while Jedi still prowled the Empire. But Emperor Palpatine had designed a suit that made it easy for Vader to deny himself that luxury. The bright lights on Vader's chest box flashed incessantly, making noise for no apparent reason. The loud rasp of his breath joined the pointless sounds without end. He would have shed the nightmarish armor as soon as he'd stepped away from the operating table- but, like the hyperbaric chamber he now sat in, Vader's suit was also served as a life support machine. He could not remove it.

Its intimidating exterior protected delicate instruments that took care of nourishment and waste; circuitry which monitored his respiratory, cardiac, and neural systems; and several implants connected by a thick cable, which ran through his torso and connected to the black box strapped to his chest. Needles were jabbed into his charred body at regular points, providing the suit with a constant stream of biological information.

"Painful" was a weak and common word, completely inadequate when it came to describing his suit. Although the Emperor provided medicine meant to dull the pain, the solution was a mere placebo- it did nothing when faced with the Emperor's torturous design. It did nothing to alter Vader's perception of the thick cable running into his chest, or of the other cables that branched out from it. It did nothing when his four prosthetic limbs, purposefully made from the wrong alloys, dug into his joints. The clunky replacements connected to grafted stubs of flesh, covered in synthskin that his body rejected. It itched incessantly- until it died. Periodically, Vader would return to a med bay, so the droids could scrub away the necrotic flesh. A part of him would always lie burning in the black sands of Mustafar, the flames licking away his skin.

_It is your coffin. You wear your tomb._

The macabre thought wormed its way to the front of his mind again, darkening his already grim thoughts. Yet he did not push the thought aside- he held it there as firmly as he would grasp a viper in his fist.

_Peace is a lie; there is only passion._

It was the first line of the Sith Code: a code that Anakin Skywalker had heard whispered in the Jedi Temple like a forbidden incantation.

_Through passion I gain strength._

_Through strength I gain power._

His suit did grant him power. The agony strengthened his abilities in the Dark Side of the Force, which were fueled by pain and hatred. But his suit served another purpose. It had taught him discipline, with an intensity that Anakin Skywalker could never have achieved.

A consequence of the suit's shoulder armor was that Vader could not raise his arms above his head- not without excruciating pain, which he had enough of. This, combined with the awkwardness of his prosthetic limbs, had forced him to re-learn the art of combat. His new techniques compensated for his limited range of motion, and defended the vulnerable control panel strapped to his chest.

_Through power I gain victory._

The words bit into his mind, a flash of clean fury accompanying it. The Emperor had seen to it that Vader would never achieve true victory; the apprentice would never overthrow his master. Vader's suit was designed to keep him subservient: the control panel for several life support functions was displayed openly on his chest, creating an easy target. The connections between many cables in his suit were faulty, and had to be frequently re-aligned. Although he could function for weeks on his own, Vader would inevitably return to a med center, as these problems- among many others- meant that his suit required frequent maintenance.

As much as his suit infuriated him, he could never escape it. Although the Emperor, finally pleased with his apprentice's progress, had presented him with a design for a new suit- one that was far less painful, and allowed for fluid, even elegant, motion- Vader had refused. The operations required would gamble with his life.

_And what is the point of escaping this wretched thing, if I don't live to see myself freed?_

Vader shook his head softly, pushing those thoughts aside. He tried to recall what nightmare he'd just dragged himself out of. Although he typically dismissed his dreams as insignificant, he knew there was _something_, something he had promised himself he would remember…. Although already half-forgotten, pieces of his nightmare swam tantalizingly before his vision.

Padmé had appeared again- of course she had. She haunted every nightmare he endured, an angelic presence amidst the creatures that would tear away his flesh whenever he dared to sleep. The Sith's lips twisted down in a silent snarl. Seeing his wife should have been a comfort to him, one pleasant constant in an ever-shifting landscape of terrors. But how she appeared never ceased to chill his blood.

Sometimes in his dreams, rotten corpses of fallen Jedi would lunge at him; sometimes it was worse: the monsters would force him to watch as they ate Padmé bit by bit, Vader's wife kicking and screaming as the beasts tormented her. Other times, Vader's mind would conjure visions of her as an avenging angel, her dark eyes flashing as she listed his crimes. She would press her hands to his chest, and a searing pain would drive into his spine; he'd slowly melt from the inside as his wife cried out his innocent victims' names.

It was only when his nightmares were at their worst that she would appear quietly. Padmé would sit in the ruins of the fortress on Mustafar- the fortress that collapsed atop her, crushing her instantly, while Vader could do nothing but scream her name.

"You promised," she would whisper, her voice trembling with rage. Her limbs were twisted at the strange angles, often broken in the middle; dark, sticky blood seeped down her forehead and became matted in her thick locks of hair. "You promised you would save me. You promised me. You lied to me."

But tonight, mercifully, a piece of his dream had been different- utterly unique. It was the strange, intangible _something_ Vader had strived to remember. Padmé was very deeply asleep, clothed in a pale pink hospital gown, with an oxygen mask slipped over her mouth and nose. Her bed was soft and comfortable, but the rest of the windowless room was inexplicably empty. Vader had waited for the cruel twist….. There was none. He simply sat beside her, wrapping her small hand in his large, gloved ones; he watched over her while she slept. As he leaned over her, he saw his mask reflected in hers, and his robotic breathing moved in sync with her life support machine….

_Kkk-ksshhh…. Kkk-ksshh…._

It was a soothing dream, a few minutes of relief before the nightmares began again in earnest. He allowed his mind to drift through the comforting scene, one so vivid he had even sensed her presence.

With a soft smile, Vader clung to the precious memories, and clung to the trace of Padmé's presence, a trace that he could still sense.

Her presence did not have the strength of a force-user's, but it radiated the warmth of a handful of suns. He did not make that comparison in an abstract sense- to step near her felt like stepping up to a viewport on a hot summer day, feeling a square of sunlight fall across his body, the bright heat warming his skin….

_This is not a memory._

Her presence was _there-_ distant, but somehow alive, and drifting towards him. Vader raised his scarred head, half expecting to hear light footsteps in his quarters as his wife returned to him. But there was no such miracle.

_You should have anticipated this,_ he lashed out at his traitorous imagination. It was ten years ago, on this day, that she was killed by his failure. Of course her presence would be on his mind. Yet in the past decade, her presence had never been as tangible as it was at this moment… or as it had been in his dream.

Vader closed his eyes, his hands quivering so violently that he gripped the arms of his chair to keep them still. He stretched into the Force, searching for Padmé's warm presence…. And his lips twisted down in disgust. Hiding just beneath her was another presence, one that was using her as mask, attempting to deceive the Dark Lord….

_Kenobi._

The Jedi was on Coruscant.… As was Vader.

_YOU WILL PAY._

Vader's eyes flashed open, burning the ugly yellow of the Sith. The pain of Padmé's death twisted through his chest again, as tangible a weight as the rubble that had crushed her.

She was dead. She was dead, as she had been all these years; the Jedi was merely twisting her memory to his own advantage. Kenobi must have brought some relic of her with him, that was the only explanation, something she had treasured and kept close to her- something that would bring a trace of her presence with it. Perhaps the Japor Snippet that Skywalker had given to her for luck, a childish trinket that she'd worn for the next thirteen years, even to the day she died. The necklace had been interred with her, and at the thought of Kenobi breaking into her grave to steal it, Vader stood with a snarl forming in his throat.

Whatever foolishness had brought Kenobi here, whatever arrogance had led the Jedi to use Padmé's memory as his shield…. Kenobi would die for it.


	4. Spectres

***** 3 DAYS UNTIL EMPIRE DAY: VERY, VERY LATE THAT NIGHT…. *****

Obi-Wan focused on the rise and fall of his chest; his breath was deep and even as he meditated. One hand was stretched out before him, and a few centimeters beyond it, a smooth green stone- the healing amulet- levitated. A viridescent, spectral glow radiated from the center of the stone. It made the artificial ceiling lights seem feeble.

Sweat framed the Jedi Master's face. The amulet, although forged to channel the light side's healing energies, also possessed a wild power characteristic of Dathomir's Nightsisters. Even for a Jedi- or perhaps, particularly for a Jedi- the artifact was difficult to tame. Obi-Wan could feel the green necklace quavering within his Force grip. The Dathomirian talisman nearly possessed a mind of its own; it wanted to disperse its energy to everything in the room, except for Padmé. Obi-Wan supposed it was designed to be that way. Its power could not be abused by the weak-willed or undisciplined.

_Or by the Sith._

Whatever Vader would have told himself, had he known about this amulet, the Dark Lord could never have controlled the talisman. It was meant only for the light side of the Force- the only side of the Force that could be used for healing. Obi-Wan suspected that if the Dark Side was channeled through the amulet, it would gleefully destroy itself.

But now the Jedi's mind was wandering; he guided his mind back to the task at hand as the necklace tried to ram its way out of his grip. Obi-Wan was very glad he'd placed the amulet around Padmé's neck. If he lost his concentration, the stone could go no farther than the length of the necklace's leather cord. Obi-Wan was certain that if he hadn't taken that precaution, the stone would have thrown itself into a corner of the room and shattered by now.

Obi-Wan heard the door open behind him, and the tap of Yoda's cane as the Grandmaster entered. Yoda quietly opened his mind to the Force, and effortlessly- so it seemed- took control of the talisman. Obi-Wan released his grip on the amulet, bowing gratefully to Yoda as the Jedi Knight used his sleeve to mop the sweat from his brow.

"Arrived, Senator Organa has." Yoda murmured, his great eyes closed as he concentrated on the talisman.

"Thank you, Master." Obi-Wan replied, respectfully leaving the room so the Grandmaster could focus.

Obi-Wan squinted into the dim light of the sprawling sublevel. Compared to the amulet's bright glow, these glowpanels might as well be nonexistent for all the good they did.

"Master Jedi," Bail whispered from the shadowed maze.

"Senator Organa," Obi-Wan greeted him with a smile. His blue eyes fruitlessly searched for the senator within the gloom.

"If you'll follow me," Bail emerged from behind a shelf of syringes, waving Obi-Wan toward the proper path.

* * *

***** ALSO VERY, VERY LATE THAT NIGHT; ALSO VERY CLOSE…. *****

"Do you think it's a trap?" Sabine Wren was the first to suggest it. She'd taken one of her beat-up blasters from its holster, and was twirling it restlessly around her left hand.

"We can trust Senator Organa." Kanan replied in his calmest, deepest voice- what Sabine and Ezra privately referred to as Kanan's "dad voice."

Although Kanan had been blind for three months and six days (Sabine couldn't help but keep count), the Jedi still habitually turned his head to scan his surroundings. At the moment, they weren't very pleasant ones.

Senator Organa-

_Bail Organa; 1.91 meters, black hair and brown eyes, dark skin; currently Senator of Alderaan, _her mind automatically supplied-

had met them in the front left corner of the storage sublevel. He was supposed to lead them to meet two Jedi, but apparently, they were busy. So Organa had stuck them inside this glorified freezer-

_Probably meant to keep medicine at the proper temperature, _she noted-

which had the nasty habit of locking from the outside. And _only_ the outside. Which, in Sabine's mind, was the perfect place to trap a rebel crew.

But according to both Kanan and Hera, they could trust Senator Organa. So Sabine was going along with it. But if they were wrong, she'd remind them of "the time you guys got us locked in a freezer," for the rest of their lives.

_We can trust Senator Organa…._

"But really, can we?" Ezra piped up, as if reading her mind. He'd been pacing the freezer like it was an escape-the-room puzzle, staring into the blank corners, occasionally clambering atop a shelf for a better look at the ceiling.

"At the moment, I don't really care, as long as he pulls us out of here soon." Hera answered through chattering teeth. Sabine winced sympathetically from beneath her helmet.

Hera was a pale green Twi'lek, and her homeworld- Ryloth- was typically ten to sixteen degrees hotter than human environments. Hera was always too cold; she'd wear a blouse, vest, and slacks when Sabine wore shorts and a sleeveless top. Freezers were definitely not Hera's favorite biome.

"Maybe he wants to freeze us to death," Zeb growled from the corner he skulked in. The tall Lasat was more than warm enough beneath his natural coat of fur. He wrapped a thick arm around Hera's shoulders, his large paw rubbing her arms softly.

Kanan glided over to Hera, as well- he had no need for a cane; he could move through a room using only the Force. It still left Sabine in a bit of awe each time he did it (even after three months, six days, and twenty-three hours). He unzipped his brown jacket and wrapped it around Hera's shoulders. She smiled gratefully- and somehow, Kanan just _knew_ that she had.

Sudden footsteps snapped Sabine back to attention.

"Listen," she called, and nodded to the thick door, their only exit. There was a slight grinding noise, and the durasteel door clunkily retreated into the top of the doorframe. Senator Organa stepped through with an apologetic smile.

"I hope you'll forgive me, friends." The senator began.

_But you're about to betray us, aren't you?_ Sabine grimly thought. She clutched her blaster tighter, and her free hand rested lightly atop the handle of her second weapon- but she refrained from drawing it for now.

"I'm afraid we've kept you waiting for some time." Organa finished. Sabine breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that her panicked expression had been hidden behind her spray-painted helmet. She should have known everything was fine: both Kanan and Ezra had been perfectly relaxed, and if she couldn't rely on their Jedi instincts, she couldn't rely on anything.

Sabine saw a hooded figure shifting beyond the doorframe, concealed by the sublevel's murky lighting.

"Who's your friend?" She asked. Kanan and Ezra were still perfectly calm, and they hadn't signaled that anything was wrong, but that didn't mean Sabine would drop her vigilance.

"Spectres One through Six… meet Master Kenobi." Organa answered with a smile, moving aside so the hooded figure could enter the freezer. The door closed behind them both, and Kenobi removed his hood.

Kanan's jaw dropped as recognition flicked through Sabine's mind.

_Kenobi: Jedi, hero of the Clone Wars, Kenobi?  
_It was possible- according to all Imperial records, Kenobi had survived Order 66.

"I- Master, it's an honor!" Kanan stammered, uncharacteristically awed.

"Wha- no. No way!" Ezra laughed, his eyes wide as he ran up to shake the General's hand. Hera hid an endeared smile.

Kenobi-

_Approximately 1.8 meters, auburn hair but it's flecked with gray- makes sense, he'd be in his late forties by now- light blue eyes, he even stands like a former General. Story checks out. Could still be a con man-_

smiled warmly, and shook Ezra's hand.

"It's very good to meet you, young one," the Jedi Master said, and somehow, it didn't sound condescending. "May I ask your names?"

"It's Ezra, I mean, I'm Ezra- Ezra Bridger." Ezra said, rocking a bit nervously from foot to foot. "I'm Kanan's Padawan." He continued proudly.

Kenobi beamed. "Well, we need as many of those as we can get." He clapped Ezra lightly on the shoulder before turning to the rest of the company.

Kanan was right behind Ezra, holding out his hand to Kenobi.

"I'm Kanan Jarrus, sir. I escaped the Jedi Temple during Order 66." He said, his voice slightly more under control. Master Kenobi nodded gravely.

"It was a dark day for all of us," he said. "But it warms my heart to see you here. I thought that none of the younglings escaped."

Kanan nodded, a silent grief passing briefly between them.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again, sir," Kanan said. His voice wavered, and he struggled to keep it level. "I'm sure you don't remember, but-"

"No. I remember every face." Kenobi cut him off quietly. "I've never forgotten one. Not after that night."

Sabine listened quietly, almost feeling as if she were eavesdropping.

"You were Depa Billaba's padawan. And incessantly curious. I do believe you drove Master Windu up the walls with your questions." Kenobi laughed, a few bitter tears forming in his eyes, and Kanan laughed with him.

"I'm glad you're alright, Master." Kanan continued. "Especially after fighting Darth Maul. He blinded me a few months ago during a duel. It's incredible that you defeated him."

"Less incredible, considering I've failed to defeat him once and for all." Kenobi bowed his head humbly.

"Perhaps you'll have better luck with Vader," Senator Organa gently broke in.

"If the Force is with us, we will," Kenobi replied firmly. He glanced around the room. "Let's see… if you're Kanan, and you're Ezra, then you must be-"

"Zeb." The Lasat chimed in simply. "Glad we've got a _real_ Jedi fighting against the Imps, for once," the alien said with a boisterous smile, elbowing Ezra.

"Hey!" The padawan shot back, ducking out of the way as Zeb tried to ruffle his shaggy hair.

"I'm Hera." She smiled gently, nodding her head in greeting. "But I go by Spectre Two during missions." Normally, Hera would have introduced her droid, Chopper, but they'd left him onboard the _Ghost_\- he was a trusty little rustbucket, but too noticeable for these clandestine meetings.

Kenobi nodded politely back. "Which leaves Miss Wren, I presume?" He said, turning to Sabine. The mandalorian pulled off her pink helmet, grinning as she revealed her young age- she was only nineteen- and her orange streaked hair.

"Miss Wren," she commented idly, "I like it."

"I hope you'll forgive our choice of location- I know it's hardly the most convenient." Master Kenobi began. "But it's far from Imperia commandl centers, and this colony is relevant to what we'll tell you. Furthermore, this closet is soundproof."

"Seems more like a freezer to me," Zeb muttered, ruffling his fur to shake off the frost.

"It may well be," Kenobi replied with a hidden smile. "Has Senator Organa briefed you on any aspects of the mission?"

Hera shook her head. "We just knew that you'd explain it when we got here."

"I appreciate your trust," the Jedi Master said as he pulled a crate away from the wall. "Please, sit," Kenobi offered, waving to the crates surrounding them. Sabine half expected them to start levitating, but nothing happened.

"This is something of a long story." The Jedi Master explained, seating himself. Zeb pulled a couple of the metal boxes into the center of the room; Kanan and Ezra did the same, arranging them in a rough circle. While everyone else took their seats, Sabine perched atop a stack of crates near the door, and replaced her helmet- if someone walked in on them, she wanted a clean shot at the intruder.

Organa pulled his own crate next to Kenobi. The senator sent him a small, reassuring smile, and the Jedi Master took this as his cue to begin.

"How many of you know who Darth Vader is- who he _really_ is?" He asked. Everyone's half-formed answers died away as they considered the last part of Kenobi's question.

"No one knows," Sabine said, idly twirling her blaster. "He popped into existence a few days after the first Empire Day. Vader's always been the Emperor's enforcer- there's no history of promotion. There's no history of him at all before the Empire. Even in the Imperial Academy, there are lots of people who think he's just a droid." Sabine didn't add how she knew that last piece of information. Her past at the Academy was just that- the past.

"That's very nearly correct," Bail Organa replied. "But there are, in fact, five people who know who Vader is."

_He doesn't mean us- the _Ghost _crew? _

If he did, he was gravely mistaken.

"Obviously, there's Vader himself, and Emperor Palpatine. Then there's Master Yoda, Master Kenobi, and myself." Organa continued.

A stunned silence followed.

Ezra leaned forward with anticipation as he looked to Master Kenobi.

"Who is he?" The padawan asked.

"Darth Vader was a student of mine," Kenobi said heavily, "until he embraced the Dark Side."

A ripple of shock ran through the room, and even Sabine found herself leaning forward, hanging on to Kenobi's every word.

"He was a _Jedi?_" Kanan asked, his face pale.

"Yes. A Jedi Knight, in fact." Kenobi paused, feeling the weight of his next words. "He betrayed the Jedi, and helped the Empire kill nearly all of them before we realized what he'd done. By then it was too late."

"But… why?" Ezra asked. Kenobi leaned back against the wall, rubbing his hand thoughtfully against his chin. For a moment, he seemed very old indeed; his blue-gray eyes were distant as the sea.

"Vader was… evil, certainly. But not for its own sake." Master Kenobi began. "I once had another student: Anakin Skywalker."

"And Vader was jealous?" Hera asked him softly.

"You're very perceptive," Kenobi nodded, and smiled sadly. "Far more than I was. Yes, Vader was jealous. I'd known Anakin far longer than I'd known Vader, and Anakin was like my brother. I loved him like a brother, and I believe he felt the same way about me."

"I remember Anakin." Kanan said. "The holonet loved him: they called him 'The Hero With No Fear.' But he wasn't just fearless, he was kind. He'd take the time to help us- the younglings- when everyone else was too busy or too important."

"He was my hero when I was little." Hera recalled. "I was only ten years old when he was killed by the Empire. I felt like the world had ended. I think everyone felt that way."

Sabine had no such fond memories, so she kept silent. She'd been born on Mandalore to Clan Wren- a clan that had sided with the Empire, and a clan that had been unspeakably proud when Sabine joined the Imperial Academy.

_That was a long time ago,_ she reminded herself- just as Hera had gently reminded Sabine, until the fledgling rebel believed it.

Kenobi sighed softly, folding his hands across his lap like an ancient storyteller. "And to make matters worse, Anakin was believed to be the Chosen One- a being prophesied to destroy the Sith and bring balance to the Force."

Ezra winced. "No wonder Vader was jealous," he said glumly.

Master Kenobi nodded. "Yes…" His gaze softened slightly, and he seemed to drift in his thoughts for a moment, before collecting himself.

"All of this, Vader endured," Kenobi continued. "But things took a turn for the worse when Anakin was expelled from the Order."

"Expelled?" Kanan exclaimed. "But- Master, Anakin was there through the entire Clone Wars. What happened?"

"Anakin came into the Order very late. He was fifteen years old when Knight Qui-Gon Jinn brought him to the Temple." Kenobi said.

"Almost everyone is brought there before they're five years old." Kanan explained for the _Ghost_ crew's benefit. "That way, they haven't formed attachments- to their family, their homeworld, or anything else."

"Yes," Kenobi continued. "To start training someone much older than that was considered dangerous."

"The Jedi Order believed that attachment and possession lead to the Dark Side. So Anakin was allowed into the Order on one condition: that he was the Chosen One," Master Kenobi elaborated, and shifted uncomfortably. "It put more pressure on him than I realized. Especially because I wasn't supposed to be his master. My former teacher, Qui-Gon, was going to train him- even if it meant being banished from the Jedi Order. When Qui-Gon was killed by Darth Maul…" His voice began to tremble. "His last words… he said that Anakin was the Chosen One, and begged me to train him. So the Council allowed it.

"Eventually, the Sith found a way to turn this against us. About a year before the Clone Wars, a Sith agent- Asajj Ventress- came to the steps of the Jedi Temple, and claimed to be the true Chosen One. We were all fooled," Kenobi explained, looking to all of them in turn. "She displayed a power far beyond Anakin's, or even Master Yoda's. Anakin was still my padawan at the time, and…." He trailed off, his heart visibly sinking.

"Anakin wasn't allowed to continue his training?" Hera prompted gently.

"It's not your fault," Zeb spoke for the first time since sitting down. His voice was rough. "I… I had little brothers, once, before the Empire invaded Lasan. Sometimes, you do everything you can, and the worst still happens."

Silence settled over the room. Sabine had never heard Zeb speak about the invasion of Lasan- neither had Ezra, from the look on his face. And judging by Zeb's tone, he wasn't going to talk about it again.

"Anakin was expelled from the Jedi Order, and I briefly took Ventress as my padawan." Kenobi's voice slowly rose from the silence. "By the same time the next year- at the Battle of Geonosis, the beginning of the Clone Wars- I discovered that Ventress was a Sith infiltrant, and that she was using dark artifacts to enhance her powers. The artifacts were disguised as a necklace, and I destroyed it to prove her deception. Ventress' powers were greatly diminished, but in the chaos, she managed to escape. Luckily, members of the Jedi Council witnessed everything, and the truth prevailed."

"Did Anakin come back?" Ezra asked.

"Partially, I suppose," Kenobi said sadly. "When Anakin was expelled, he met an old friend of his- Padmé Amidala."

"And she turned out to be a bit more than a friend?" Sabine guessed.

"Indeed." Master Kenobi replied. "Padmé was one of the Republic's best diplomats, and had the rather deadly habit of interfering with Count Dooku's plots. Anakin defended her from Dooku's assassins, and while they were on the run, they fell in love. They were married very quietly, on a backwater world in the Outer Rim. No one knew, because there wasn't anyone there with them to tell."

Sabine frowned while she worked through the puzzle. She was so engrossed that she'd stopped spinning her blaster.

"And by the time the Jedi discovered who Ventress was…." Sabine began slowly.

"Anakin and Padmé were already married. Yes." Kenobi said. "Once the war began, they decided it would be safer if their marriage remained a secret- no one would hold Senator Amidala hostage because she was General Skywalker's wife, or vice versa. Although I only discovered this after the Empire's rise, by looking through files in the memory chip of Anakin's droid."

The Jedi Master ran a hand across his weary eyes. "When Anakin was invited back into the Order, he accepted. But I… I think he and I both knew that he didn't intend to stay. That he only agreed to come back because the Republic was at war, and the Jedi had been asked to lead its army. Once the war was over, well… who could blame him if he left?" Kenobi shrugged. "At the time, I suspected that he and Senator Amidala were romantically entangled, but Anakin never said anything to me. I turned a blind eye to it. Anakin was a cunning warrior, and the galaxy's best starpilot- we needed him to fight with us. I couldn't risk the Council expelling him a second time."

For a moment- just a moment- Obi-Wan smiled warmly. "And I'd never seen him so happy. I couldn't bring myself to tell the Council."

"What went wrong?" Hera asked.

"The Sith twisted it against us, just as they had before." Obi-Wan answered bitterly. "They caused Padmé to become gravely ill, and they ordered the Separatists to invade the only system that could produce the cure."

"I still don't understand how Vader comes into all of this," Ezra said, his brow knit together in confusion. "Was he happy that something finally went wrong for Anakin?"

"No," Obi-Wan said dully. "What I didn't realize was that Vader had been in love with Padmé for years."

Hera gasped softly, and Sabine's stomach sank.

_Anakin was killed in the Jedi Temple during Order 66…. During Order 66, Vader lead the Five-Hundred and First legion into the Jedi Temple…. _

"I know that his feelings were unrequited." Obi-Wan continued. "I can only speculate as to what occurred between Vader and the Sith. But it seems that, if Vader pledged himself to the Sith, they would save Padmé's life- not that Vader knew who had caused her illness. And if Vader eliminated the Jedi, Anakin would be out of his way."

Hera pressed a hand to her mouth, her green eyes watering. Kanan reached out to squeeze her free hand softly. Sabine bit her lip quietly, wanting to help, but too far away to do so.

_Of course that story affected her, _Sabine realized sadly. _A Jedi Knight killed because of his secret lover…. And killed by Vader, someone we're still fighting…._

It was something of an open secret among the crew that Kanan and Hera were together. No one pried, and no one knew how close they were- although they bickered like a married couple, and Sabine liked to imagine that they were. Hera had raised her better than Sabine's own mother, and Kanan was the father she'd always wished she'd had.

"Padmé and I tried to save Anakin, but we were too late." Obi-Wan's voice broke. "Vader had killed Anakin long ago, and he nearly killed me. And Padmé…" He repressed a shudder. "It was foolish of me to bring her. Unbelievably foolish. Several Imperial shuttles entered the atmosphere, and while they fired upon me, they also destroyed a nearby building. It collapsed atop Padmé."

"Oh, no…" Sabine murmured, thinking not only of Padmé, but of the nightmares this might give Hera and Kanan.

"Vader and I both witnessed it," Obi-Wan continued, his voice wavering. "But I reached Padmé first. I rushed her to the nearest med center- Polis Massa- but it was too late."

Sabine frowned.

_Why bring us back to the spot she died?_

"We allowed the med droids to place her on life support." Senator Organa spoke up, laying his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder- the Jedi Master seemed unable to continue speaking.

"And although she was reported dead, in reality she has remained here, on life support, ever since." Organa explained.

"But…" Hera began, the confusion clear on both her face and in her voice.

"You've heard about the power of dark artifacts," Organa continued on Obi-Wan's behalf. "But Master Kenobi has also uncovered an amulet belonging to the light side." He looked to the Jedi Master. "If that is an adequate way to describe it, Master Jedi."

"Yes," Obi-Wan answered hoarsely, and cleared his throat as he sat up straighter. "I've told you all of this so you will understand the reasoning behind our plan. The amulet I've found may be able to revive Padmé. And if it does," the Jedi Master continued before anyone could interject, "we will ask her to be the bait in our plan to assassinate Darth Vader."

Gasps sounded throughout the room- even Zeb's jaw dropped a bit. Sabine's certainly did.

"I don't know about anyone else, but I'm in." Sabine volunteered, hopping off her stack of crates, and pulling off her helmet. "That's why you asked us here, isn't it?"  
"It is." The Jedi Master stood to meet Sabine. "But I must warn you- there will be great risk involved, to all of us."  
"What else would we expect? We're rebels." Sabine replied.

"I'm in, too." Zeb said, standing up. "Vader's ruined enough families' lives. It's time he gets a taste of his own blade."  
"Do I even have to say it?" Ezra said, standing with them.  
"We're in. All of us." Hera said firmly, standing hand in hand with Kanan.

"When do we start, Master?" Kanan asked Obi-Wan.


	5. Meditations

***** 3 DAYS BEFORE EMPIRE DAY *****

Vader opened his meditation chamber, the hexagonal pod splitting in two in order to provide an entryway. He stepped into the black pod. Despite its dark exterior, inside it was as white and bright as a padded cell. The Sith Lord felt his reconstructed shins slice into his knees as he lowered himself into the lone piece of furniture- a circular black chair. It was as uncomfortable as the rest of the chamber. The rounded back was the same height as the low armrests: it was designed so that Vader would be forced to sit upright at all times. A Dark Lord of the Sith did not recline or doze during his meditations.

The pod slid shut. The horizontal seam quickly sealed itself as tightly as an airlock door- it was a necessary measure, because within the chamber, the atmosphere was adjusted to allow Vader to breathe without his helmet.

A wide black claw lowered from the flat ceiling. It clamped around Vader's helmet; the Sith braced himself as it began to retract. A dozen thick needles were concealed by his faceplate, and while they were useful- both for providing the suit with a constant stream of biological data, and for providing Vader with the pain that fueled his dark powers- feeling them peel away from his face was hardly pleasant. In his opinion, the only sensation that was worse was feeling them dig into his skin when the helmet was replaced.

His hands were gripping the seat like a predator's claws. Vader made a conscious effort to relax them; he then crossed his legs as best he could, settling into a semblance of an appropriate meditation posture. Soon it was to be Empire Day: Vader was tasked with halting any foolish rebel displays that occurred during the Imperial holiday. And if he was to maintain his focus, he would need to prepare. He would need to anchor his dark powers in his hatred and his pain. Vader knew there was only one place to begin his meditation….

_I'm sorry, beloved…._

Vader's hands dug into the arms of his chair as he delved deeper into the memories, a swirl of pain and anger clouding his mind, strengthening him for the task ahead. She had worn a blue dress, one that pooled around her ankles like water, and her hair was woven with small, white flowers.

Vader remembered how he'd lain burning on Mustafar's black sands, watching the fortress collapse atop his wife; he recalled the Emperor kneeling at his side as the apprentice's vision blurred, and black spots appeared before his damaged eyes. Clones arrived, bearing a medical capsule- one Vader wished they'd lifted his wife into, instead of him. But no one had known she was in the fortress, no one but himself and Kenobi, and Vader was unable to speak.

The Sith Lord recalled the endless haze of pain as he was placed onto an operating table, the incompetent droids creating this defective black suit.

_"Padmé... help me..." He tried to speak, but little sound emerged from his scorched vocal cords. Above him, a wide, black claw lowered some strange mask toward his head: a terrifying, twisted impression of a face, with lenses tinted crimson, and needles lining the inside of the angular cheeks._

_"Keep me sane... please..." He could only mouth the words now, unseen beneath the black helmet. As the pain crashed down around him, threatening to overwhelm him, he kept his thoughts on her. Vader created a vivid picture, almost a hallucination, of her lying on another table somewhere in this dim room. The droids did nothing to ease his pain- it was because they were focused on healing Padmé. His flesh still burned- it was because the droids were attending to his wife, ensuring that their child was well, gently placing their son in her arms. He could not scream- and Padmé had no need to, all the dull pain she'd endured over the past months was gone._

_Vader felt the table beneath him rise, and he broke away the thick restraints that held him to it. He pressed himself up as quickly as he could. It took more effort than he anticipated: the suit was heavy, and his clunky prosthetic limbs did not respond as he expected him to. He shakily stood; he searched the room for his wife and child, convinced that they were there, convinced that they were safe…_

_There was a deep voice echoing through the room, asking everything Vader thought: "Where is Padmé? Is she safe? Is she alright?" He realized that this was his voice now._

_The Emperor slowly shook his head, his whitened, wrinkled face formed into an appropriate mask of sympathy.  
"You failed, Lord Vader." Palpatine said in his rasping voice. "She is dead."  
"NO!" Vader shouted. "I sensed her. She was alive! I felt it!"  
Palpatine merely shook his head, his lips turning up in delight at Vader's pain._

_Vader continued to scream, his panic turning to sheer rage; he lashed out with what remained of his dark powers and crushed the droids that hovered around him, he destroyed the machinery and sent it flying through the room, he broke the table and the walls themselves, everything collapsing around him in a circle of rubble. A black pile of rubble, like the one that had crushed her, killing her and their unborn child instantly…_

_Vader sank to his knees, surrounded by his failures, with nothing but the Emperor at his side._

The Emperor had dismissed Vader, ordering the apprentice to go and meditate upon his failure. Immediately upon entering his quarters, Vader ordered a droid to inform him of Padmé's funeral arrangements. Perhaps, if he left at once, there would be time to pay his respects…

Instead, Vader was given a recording of the funeral. He had spent days lying on the operating table. He had missed her funeral entirely. Even in this, he had failed her.

Vader had watched the recording with a sinking heart, the small blue holograph cradled in the palm of his hand as gently as if he held his wife's soul.

At least, in these final moments, it seemed the universe had been kind to her- she deserved it, after everything she'd been through. Instead of being cremated at the Theed Funeral Temple, as Naboo's custom dictated, her body was placed in an open casket, and brought through the streets of Theed at twilight. She was clothed in a blue gown, one that flowed around her like water, and small white blossoms were woven through her hair.

The japor snippet was folded between Padmé's hands, resting over her stomach- Vader saw, with pain like a knife driving through his gut, that she still appeared pregnant. Some part of him had hoped- had pleaded with the Force, even- that their child had survived, but…

Her casket was pulled by four pure white gualaars- it was fitting, he supposed, and it brought him some small comfort. The horse-like creatures had been domesticated by the Naboo long ago, and the beautiful animals were used as beasts of burden. Padmé had grown up surrounded by the tall creatures. Her father was once a crystal miner in one of the planet's nameless mountain ranges, and Padmé had developed a strong affection for the horned beasts that pulled their wares.

She was then entombed in a stone coffin, adorned with the emblem of her planet, which she'd so proudly served: first as an elected and beloved Queen, and finally as a galactic senator.

Then her coffin was placed in a private mausoleum. It was a beautiful and fitting place for her to rest: elegant stained glass windows were nestled within the high stone arches, lush flowers filled urns atop smooth pillars; the building overlooked the lakes she had loved.

He had failed her, unquestionably. But for once, the universe had been forgiving.

In the present day, Vader cradled that same hologram in his palm, gazing down at her beautiful figure, now as still as if she were carved from stone. He meditated, the grief and hate drowning him. And he looked upon his Queen, who with her flowing blue gown and her brown curls fanned out around her, looked as if she were drowning, as well….

* * *

***** 2 DAYS UNTIL EMPIRE DAY: VERY EARLY MORNING *****

After the Ghost crew signed on to the mission, Organa and Kenobi suggested that everyone get some rest before they began planning. Then their hosts-  
_Finally…  
_-let them out of the freezer. Sabine was right about the freezer door: it only opened from the outside. This posed a problem, as everyone was currently inside the narrow room. Good thing their hosts had planned ahead.

To exit, Organa summoned a med droid to the sublevel, which then opened the freezer for them. Senator Organa immediately had the hovering droid's memory wiped.  
_Nice to be working with professionals,_ Sabine mentally remarked. She'd had a few entirely close calls nefore, because a droid had recognized her from the Empire's "Most Wanted" list.

Sabine stifled a yawn, not for the first time that night. She glanced at a glowing chronometer- it was nearing two in the morning. With luck, she'd sleep so solidly tonight, she'd sleep free of nightmares.  
_And thank the Ashla for that._

Judging by his next words, Organa had also noticed the unseemly hour.  
"If you'd like to follow me, we've prepared quarters for you." The senator offered as he lead the crew through the dim sublevel. "But of course, if you'd rather stay on your ship, we understand."  
"We'd be more than happy to accept your offer," Kanan assured him, answering on the Ghost crew's behalf.  
Sabine stifled a wince (she had to be mindful of her expressions now that her helmet was removed). Personally, she would've loved to return to her room on the Ghost. It wasn't that she disliked the Jedi or the Senator- candidly speaking, she would've enjoyed their company at another time. But Sabine-

_Or Miss Wren,_ she thought with a smile-  
was rarely inclined to stay up late chatting with friends. Her idea of a nice evening was to be alone in her room, spray painting the latest artistic addition to her walls- maybe even humming along to some music the Empire had (very strictly) banned.  
But that would have to wait. Kanan was right: they were about to embark on a life-threatening mission with their hosts, and it wouldn't hurt to accept their hospitality. Hopefully, this would help their partnership start off on the right foot…. Sabine sighed.  
_Even if it means spending a few nights away from the _Ghost.

The company squished into an ancient turbolift, and a sluggish ride later, emerged on the ground floor of the med center. Everyone was rather paranoid about being spotted by an Imperial sympathiser, so Senator Organa lead the way, peering around corners for them. They walked very briskly- it was only a minute or two before Organa waved them into their quarters.

Sabine stepped in, filtering out the group's sleepy chatter and focusing on the arrangements. There were three adjoining rooms-  
_And hooray, they open from the inside this time!_  
-with two cots each. These rooms were obviously meant for patients: the cots were standard hospital beds with the rails removed; the large, blank spaces in the room hinted that the quarters were once filled with medical equipment, but it had been hastily cleared away. Organa and Kenobi had chosen these quarters well: the odds were low that someone would try to house a patient here, given that half of the other rooms on this floor were free. All things considered, not bad.

Hera and Kanan told their hosts that yes, the quarters are perfect; no, we won't be needing anything else, thank you. Organa made his exit, heading to his own quarters. Master Kenobi said his goodbyes, and turned to leave as well- but not for his chambers. He would go back to the sublevel, meditating with the healing amulet.

An old set of memories nagged at Sabine's heart as he left. She muttered something vague to Hera about needing to talk to the Jedi Master, and followed him out.

"Master?" Sabine called softly. She stepped into the hall, and found that Kenobi was already waiting for her. He smiled politely, and showed her into another empty room: this one was crammed to the brim with what looked like x-ray machines for various species.

Kenobi closed the door behind them. "This is a safer place to talk than the hall," he offered by way of explanation.  
_Again: nice to be working with professionals.  
_"How did you know I was coming?" Sabine asked. She knew Jedi could sense other beings through the Force- at least, that was what she'd picked up from listening to Kanan and Ezra. Her concern was that Kenobi could read her mind.

Master Kenobi shrugged, smiling gently. "The Force often brings a heightened sense of awareness."  
Sabine smiled weakly.  
_Do me a favor, Master: if you can read my mind now, don't.  
_

She hardly felt like spilling her innermost feelings to Kenobi: her past at the Imperial Academy was, obviously, in the past. Talking about it- even to give context to her next request- would just drag it into the present. And that was the last place she wanted it.

"I was just wondering… does Padmé have any family here for her?" Sabine asked him. She figured that no one would be here, but it was a smooth transition to what she really wanted to talk about.  
"No, I'm afraid not. None of them were informed of her survival. It kept Padmé safer." Kenobi answered politely.  
"Oh," Sabine said, trying to pretend she hadn't already assumed this. "Then… would it be alright if I stayed with her, after she wakes up?"

Kenobi simply stayed silent, considering her request. Sabine bit her lip. She didn't want to delve into this, but then again, she doubted Kenobi would leave a stranger alone with one of his oldest friends- especially when the stranger wouldn't offer any reason.

Kenobi's blue eyes were compassionate, inviting her to speak.  
"I… I was alone for a long time." Sabine admitted. "I was sixteen when I dropped out of the Imperial Academy, and my family wouldn't take me back. They called me 'rebel trash,'" she recalled, hugging her arms tightly around herself. "I know what it's like to lose your family, and what's it like to wake up one day realizing that the galaxy's run by an evil dictator- someone you used to believe in. I just… I don't want Padmé to go through that alone, too." She finished rather awkwardly, running her fingers through her colored hair.

Kenobi nodded, gazing at her kindly, although Sabine couldn't make herself meet his eyes. To her relief, he made no comment on her Imperial history.  
"Of course. I'll need to speak with her when she first wakes up, but then you're more than welcome to come see her- as are the rest of your crew." Master Kenobi smiled somewhat sadly. "I'm glad she won't be alone, as well."  
Sabine finally dragged her brown eyes away from the floor, and managed a small smile. Kenobi clapped her gently on the shoulder as he left the room.

As soon as the door slid shut behind him, Sabine let out a relieved sigh. She leaned her head against the cool wall, hoping the change in temperature would clear her mind.  
_That could have gone worse.  
_Actually, it could have gone a lot worse. But then again, formerly belonging to the Academy was a lot less heinous than betraying the Jedi Order. She supposed there wasn't much that could shock Master Kenobi anymore.

Sabine headed back to her quarters, hoping to catch a bit of sleep before she went to visit Padmé.

* * *

For Obi-Wan, the trip to the sublevel passed in a blur. His mind ran over the story he'd told the Ghost crew, playing back the half-truths in an endless cycle.  
_What in all the worlds am I going to tell Padmé?  
_He knew the answer. The problem was, he didn't like it.  
_Vader was a student of mine… jealous, in love with you, too, Padmé... wanted Anakin out of the way… lead an attack on the Jedi..._

Parts of the story were true- as many parts as he could afford to keep. It was true that Ventress had arrived at the Jedi Temple, claiming to be the Chosen One, in order to drive Anakin away. Obi-Wan saw now- it made him nauseous just to think about it- that this had been the first step of Emperor Palpatine's intricate manipulations. And yes, it was true that Padmé Amidala had interfered with Count Dooku's plots. It was true that Dooku sent assassins after Senator Amidala, which led Anakin to protect her. The couple fled to the Outer Rim, fell in love, and were married. Then Anakin returned to the Order at the start of the Clone War.  
_But not to stay…._

This was all true; the lie was that Vader and Anakin were two separate beings. A decade ago- the first Empire Day, the night of their ill-fated decision to head to Mustafar- Obi-Wan told Padmé her husband had turned to the Dark Side. It was incredibly fortunate (perhaps even the will of the Force) that Obi-Wan had never told her the new name Anakin took: the name Darth Vader.

Thus, in Obi-Wan's revised version of events, it was possible for Vader to be a Jedi Knight himself- Obi-Wan's former student.  
_Vader was jealous of Anakin, and in love with Padmé. It lead him to betray the Jedi Order, to kill Anakin and take his place as the Emperor's true apprentice…._

When Obi-Wan told the story to the Ghost crew, he intentionally left out Anakin's turn to the Dark Side. According to official Imperial records, Anakin had died in the Jedi Temple defending the younglings, the last man to fall during Order 66. And Obi-Wan saw no need to tarnish his brother's memory by recounting Anakin's final acts.

But the story he told Padmé would need to be slightly different- she knew that Anakin hadn't spent his final moments in the Jedi Temple. The story would be that Vader killed Anakin on Mustafar, in order to take his place as the Emperor's true apprentice. Then again… as long as Obi-Wan was altering the story, he saw no reason not to add a small comfort to it, for Padmé's sake.

_When Vader arrived to kill Anakin… Anakin saw the true evil of the Sith. He returned to the light, and dueled Vader to buy us time. Anakin knew he would lose- he knew he would lose even if we dueled Vader together, but Anakin stalled him anyway, so that you and I could escape.  
__Anakin wanted me to tell you that he was sorry for everything, and that he loved you more than his own life. He wanted me to save you…._

It was a rather elaborate story, but a necessary one. It was designed to explain why Vader would be captivated by the sight of Padmé appearing on Empire Day. If all went according to plan- and that was a far-fetched hope, but one Obi-Wan had to hold on to- Padmé would keep Vader distracted long enough for the rebels to assassinate the Sith Lord.

Obi-Wan paused in his journey through the sublevel. The Jedi Master sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't want to lie to Padmé; not in the slightest. But if she knew that Luke and Leia were alive, Vader would read her mind and know the truth.  
_Then there's nothing to be done about it…._

Squaring his shoulders, Obi-Wan moved on. He quickly found Padmé's hidden room. The same eerie green glow radiated from within it, bathing Obi-Wan in the bright color; when he entered, he sat at Padmé's side- and this time, so did Master Yoda. The two Jedi needed to combine their strength in order to wake Vader's wife before Empire Day.  
_Vader's wife…._

Obi-Wan felt a chill shudder down his spine at the phrase.  
"If this goes wrong, Master, I have a feeling it's going to go terribly wrong." Obi-Wan murmured. He stretched into the Force, and raised his hand, struggling to channel healing energy through the Nightsisters' amulet. The necklace trembled in his Force grip.  
"Seek not to control, Obi-Wan, but to guide," Yoda answered.  
_It never can be a straightforward answer, can it?_ Obi-Wan mentally grumbled.  
"Yes, master." He automatically answered Yoda.

The green alien chuckled. He lifted his three-clawed hand and effortlessly held the amulet still. Or, nearly still: the necklace still twirled through the warm air, as slowly as if it moved through melting butter.  
"And seek to understand, Obi-Wan. Little, mean words, without understanding." Yoda replied, opening one copper eye to send Obi-Wan a knowing glance.  
Obi-Wan felt his face burn bright red. "Yes, master." He answered.

Yoda sighed, his shoulders slumping forward heavily, his wide green ears flattening. "Mmm… seeking to control the future, this was Vader's mistake." The Grandmaster continued. "Cause much anxiety, this does. A Jedi's mind should be at peace."  
"Yes, master," Obi-Wan said again- much more somberly this time. The blush slowly faded from his cheeks.  
_I suppose I'll have to work on that…._

A Grandmaster's advice was never to be taken lightly. But at the moment, all Obi-Wan could do about it was focus on his meditation.  
_Which, I suppose, is the point,_ he thought wryly. Obi-Wan let go, breathed very deeply, and centered himself in the Force.  
_There is no emotion; there is peace…._


	6. Funerals

***** 2 DAYS UNTIL EMPIRE DAY: LATE MORNING *****

Sabine slept a solid six hours, then sprung out of bed, shutting off her alarm before it made a peep. She hastily ran her fingers through her hair, examining the pumpkin-colored ends.  
_Dye job's fading back to black… have to fix that soon…_

She brushed her teeth, threw on a set of clothes- not her vibrant, spray-painted armor, just the sleeveless top and shorts she wore beneath it- and was out of her quarters in three minutes flat.  
_Operating at peak Academy efficiency,_ she thought wryly.

Luckily, she didn't have to compete with Hera for the refresher. When Sabine had returned from her conversation with Master Kenobi, she'd found that everyone had chosen their beds. Zeb and Ezra were in the quarters farthest from hers, Kanan was in the adjoining room, and Hera was nowhere to be seen, which could only mean… Sabine grinned.  
_I gotcha this time._  
And those two idiots thought they were subtle.

Sabine quickly worked her way down to the sublevel- to her pride, she made only two false turns…. not counting the one time she somehow managed to walk in a complete circle in the dim storage section.

The mandalorian slowly treaded through the sublevel, scanning the gray walls for Padmé's secret room. Well, not so much "secret" as "hiding in plain view." Last night (or rather, extremely early this morning) Obi-Wan had mentioned heading back to the sublevel, in order to meditate with the healing amulet. He'd told the crew the location of the hidden room, in case he needed to be reached in an emergency. It was in the back of the sublevel, concealed by a screen of overflowing shelves, and disguised as another freezer. Actually, it was a freezer, which had been converted into a hospitable room for Padmé- and at this point, Sabine was so sick of thinking about freezers, she'd have been happy to acquaint one with her hand-made grenades.  
_Maybe after all this is over, I'll find one in a junkyard for target practice…._

Sabine stepped to the edge of the aforementioned shelves, squinting against the green glow emanating from the other side. She automatically dropped a hand to her left hip, grabbing the hilt of her trusty blaster-

And paused, her mind catching up to her body. Sabine raised a hand to shield her brown eyes from the glow. The green luminance shifted and swirled, like sunlight dancing on an ocean surface, blindingly bright and equally mesmerizing. This had to be some sort of Jedi magic….  
_Probably something to do with the healing amulet._

She almost chickened out then and there. Whatever this was, she didn't want to mess it up. But instead, Sabine hopped atop one of the lower shelves, and settled down to wait. It only took five minutes for her to wish she'd grabbed a piece of toast before she left. Toast, with cinnamon sugar swirled on top…. She could feel her mouth welling up with drool. But that could wait….

She sighed.  
_For at least half an hour, it can wait…._

* * *

Amidala groggily stirred, uncertain of where she was lying. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and her tongue felt like it was made of the stuff.  
"Ilola? Allé kea tue makier numa?" She realized she'd spoken in Nubian, and tried again. Anakin knew a smattering of words in her homeworld's tongue- apparently, she talked in her sleep- but probably not enough to translate so early in the morning. Amidala tried again. "Sweetheart? When did you come home?"

Someone was sitting beside her on the bed…. It had to be Anakin. And her bed was so soft, she had to be back in her old apartment. It was in the top level of the 500 Republica, and although this wasn't her favorite planet, she did love her apartment: it was placed high enough that she could see the sun setting in the sky, a rare gift on Coruscant. Amidala counted herself as incredibly lucky. Most being's views were obstructed by the silver, seemingly infinite lines of skyscrapers.

Everything was so artificial here. She missed hearing the bird songs from her homeworld, and the scent of wildflowers drifting through her open window. She missed the taste of fresh fruit, and the glitter of the lakes in the sunset. Coruscant glittered, alright, but in an entirely different way: the shining skyscrapers reflected the light so blindingly, Amidala often had to draw the shades.

But she stayed. She stayed because her apartment was barely ten minutes away from the Senate- she could see its round outline from her wide windows. War was a ground for sudden crisis, and she often had only a few minutes notice to get to the Senate in an emergency, especially when one occurred in the middle of the night.  
And it didn't hurt that from her window, she could also see the spires of the Jedi Temple. The galaxy was caught in a tumultuous civil war, and the Republic's army was lead by Jedi- including her rather clandestine husband, Anakin Skywalker. Nearly every Jedi returned to Coruscant when they'd completed their latest mission. Amidala always hoped to catch a glimpse of Anakin's yellow starfighter racing toward her balcony.

Toward her balcony…. For some reason, those words didn't ring true.  
_My balcony…_  
It felt like someone had poured a pitcher of ice water over her. It wasn't her balcony; it wasn't her apartment. It was owned by the Naboo government, and given to whoever was serving as senator- and that wasn't her anymore.

She had become too sick to work, and the med droids were unable to diagnose her condition. When they finally did, Amidala had to stop herself from panicking. She was somehow infected with a life-threatening virus- bad enough on its own, but utterly terrifying because it wasn't just her life in danger: she was six months pregnant. And her life's savings wouldn't be enough to purchase the rare medicine she needed. She called Anakin immediately.

Anakin- oh gods, he was her hero- went straight to the Jedi Council. He begged them to help in the name of showing the Jedi's mercy, or of ensuring the Republic's stability by protecting its diplomats, or because they were indebted to Amidala for all the times she'd helped them; Anakin said anything he could think of that would get them to agree. Regardless of what he argued, the Council refused. Jedi didn't meddle in politics, and this would be seen as favoritism.

Her husband didn't give up. He went to every one of his men, the entire 501rst, and personally begged them to donate anything they could. The clones also reached out to their brothers in other legions, and thousands of credits were raised. Amidala asked her own friends and family for help, and they chipped in what they could- it was difficult for them to give anything, given how drastically taxes had been raised and salaries had been slashed, but they still came through for her, as did Anakin's men. Amidala knew she'd never forget it.

Chancellor Palpatine gently refused Anakin's request for aid, because the Chancellor couldn't be seen as giving favors to politicians- and especially not to Amidala, as Palpatine had been her mentor. But immediately after their conversation, a very generous, and very anonymous, donation was made to Amidala's bank account. Anakin profusely thanked the Chancellor on Amidala's behalf- she would have thanked him in person, as well, but she'd become too ill to leave her bed.  
Between the many donations, Anakin's advances on his stipend (as well as an advance on Amidala's salary), and all her savings, it was just enough. The cure was purchased, and began production on Mortate immediately after the payment transferred.

Going to the distant planet herself was out of the question: her doctor had banned her from any travel, and Anakin was insisting on this like it was sacred scripture. But everything was going to be alright; the medicine would arrive at Coruscant in a few days, and she was expected to make a full recovery- and most importantly of all, her baby would be perfectly fine.

That was what she and Anakin thought. But three hours after transferring the payment, the latest piece of news flashed across the holonet: Mortae had been invaded by the Separatists.

Amidala lost her job. She couldn't work, and she would only get worse from here, according to the doctors. Her temporary replacement, Miros Fulka, had been representing Naboo for three weeks; he was swiftly chosen to be Naboo's new senator. Fulka was given the senator's apartment in the 500 Republica, and for the first time, Amidala was without a home.

Worst of all, she was completely bankrupt. She and Anakin had known, when they purchased her medicine, that she'd have to depend on friends and family to bring her food for a couple weeks or so- just until she could get another advance on her salary (she'd already used one to help purchase her medicine). Now, those credits would never come.

She couldn't return to Naboo. It had been surrounded by the Separatists for several months, and going there would be about as safe as going to a battlefield. Her prediction was correct: a few days after Fulka was chosen as senator, Naboo was invaded. Mercifully, she didn't have much time to worry about it. It was a struggle just to stay awake.  
_"Just get some rest, sweetheart," Anakin murmured, kissing her forehead. "I'll take care of this. I promise."_  
_She could only nod, and squeeze his hand, before she drifted back into a hazy, restless sleep._

Anakin found her a new apartment- it was a ramshackle little room in Coruscant's underbelly, but she couldn't have cared less. Apparently, after the news about Mortae was aired, they'd received another anonymous donation, obviously from Chancellor Palpatine. It was enough to purchase the apartment, and give them food and power for a couple of weeks. Not that Anakin would be staying with her.  
_"I'm organizing a campaign to take back Mortae," he said softly. He brushed the back of his hand against her cheek. "I'll be home soon. Until then, Kiné's going to stay with you, okay? She made it out of Naboo just before the invasion."_  
_Amidala nodded. "Be safe," she mouthed."I love you." Speaking was difficult, and she avoided it when she could._

_It would be alright- Kiné was her friend, as well as her former handmaiden and bodyguard. Amidala would trust her with her life any day._

Eventually, of course, the money ran out. Most of Amidala's friends and family were stranded on Naboo, or else struggling to make their rent themselves, so there wasn't much aid this time around. Even her friends Senator Organa and Senator Mon Mothma could do very little. They'd both been sent offworld on long diplomatic missions- missions from the Chancellor himself. In the meantime, their apartments on Coruscant were given to their temporary replacements, who wanted as much to do with the dying ex-senator Amidala as the slime on their boots.

Even Obi-Wan couldn't help them: he had gently refused Anakin's requests, citing the High Council's answer of political favoritism. Besides that, Obi-Wan was currently searching for General Grievous in the Outer Rim.

When Amidala could keep her eyes open, she took on work as a seamstress. Far be it from her to simply lie in bed, wasting away. She had to stitch everything by hand, but that was alright. She wasn't spending power on fancy droids or machines, which kept her prices lower, and her customers- usually beings in the lower levels who were just as broke as her- were actually able to afford her services. Besides, there was some small comfort in the repetitive motions. It reminded Amidala of her time as handmaiden, stitching the Queen's garments in the morning, and training to become a bodyguard late into the night.

Meanwhile, Kiné sold most of their things- or at least, whatever she could, which wasn't much. Amidala's old apartment had been furnished by the Naboo government, and those possessions had remained in the 500 Republica, to be passed on to Senator Fulka.

Kiné's sales helped, but this was all but negated when their landlord raised his prices. Kiné started taking extra shifts at a tapcafé a few levels higher up in the cityworld. But they were still living in the Republic capital, and prices were high; the extra income only bought a small bit of food, and Kiné barely ate at all. Besides that, Kiné didn't like leaving her alone. Amidala owned a blaster, but didn't know if she'd trust her trembling hands to aim it, if a thief broke into her home- and if she and Kiné were robbed, they were done for.

A few days later, Anakin returned. Amidala opened her mouth to ask him what happened- she had no holonet connection- but she already knew from the slump of his shoulders, and his haunted, distant eyes. He just shook his head. The campaign had failed.  
Amidala closed her eyes, fighting against hot tears. Unless something changed soon- very, very soon- she wouldn't live long enough to deliver their baby. And they both knew it.

Anakin snuck her food from the Jedi Temple's mess hall. Both times he did this, he was caught: once in the act, and once after the fact, on the security holos. And both times, an equivalent amount of credits was taken out of his stipend. The Council appreciated his charitable attitude, so they said, but they couldn't afford to feed every beggar on the street. The mess hall was for Jedi only. Anakin was warned not to try it again.

Of course, he did. He smuggled Amidala and Kiné two overflowing baskets of food, to the women's overwhelming gratitude. All seemed well. But when Anakin returned to the Temple, he was greeted by Master Windu- and banned from the mess hall for a full week.  
_"Perhaps this will teach you a lesson, young Skywalker," Windu sternly admonished him, "about the true cost of your actions."_

Anakin was forced to go out and pay for his own meals over the next week- a venture that was barely covered by what remained of his stipend. But more often than not, Anakin simply chose not to eat, instead giving his credits to Kiné and Amidala.  
_"Anakin, you have to eat." Amidala insisted, pushing herself up into a sitting position. She winced as a dagger of pain sliced through her chest._  
_"You and the baby need it more." Anakin replied firmly, trying to hand a small plate of food to her. Amidala's mouth watered as the hot meal was placed in her lap. The appetizing steam drifted just beneath her nose, as tantalizing as a five-course banquet…._  
_No. No, she told herself firmly._  
_"When's the last time you ate?" She asked, pushing the plate back towards her husband. Her throat ached with each word, but she forced herself to talk to him- this was more than important enough._  
_Anakin sighed, dropping into the rickety chair at her bedside. "Doesn't matter. I'm a Jedi. There are techniques for this sort of thing; I don't need to eat for a while yet." He said flatly, holding the plate out to her._  
_"Mm-hmm…" Amidala said, a small, mischievous smile working its way up her lips. "That's right. You paid so much attention to Obi-Wan when he taught you those sorts of things."_  
_Anakin laughed, his blue eyes lighting up for the first time in days._  
_"You know me, angel," he quipped, calling on his childhood nickname for her. "I love to listen to him drone on, and on, and on about meditation."_  
_"And the Jedi Council's teachings," she teased, reaching out to hold his hand._  
_"How horrible life would be without those," Anakin sarcastically replied, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "Alright. I promise I'll eat when Kiné gets back with the groceries. Okay?"_  
_"Okay," Amidala replied, kissing his forehead softly._

When the week was over, Anakin took as many advances on his stipend as he could. Then he marched straight into the Jedi Temple mess hall- this time, he didn't bother to be subtle. He simply threw everything he could into some large bags, and darted out of the Temple before anyone could stop him. He left no explanation behind, and didn't bother to return.

He came to live with her and Kiné, and worked as many odd jobs as he could- but even this small piece of stability didn't last. One day, Kiné left for her shift at the tapcafé, and didn't come back. A brief investigation was launched. Her body was found in a dingy alley midway between the tapcafé and Amidala's apartment. This was a bad part of the city-world; it didn't take much to piece together what had happened. It had been Kiné's payday, but no credits were found with her body. She'd obviously been fighting off thieves when….

Amidala felt a lump forming in her throat, and tears swimming before her eyes. Every time she thought of it, the news still came like a blow to the gut.  
A week or so passed. She knew it would be over soon. The sharp pains in her chest had faded to a constant, dull ache, and then to complete numbness. She couldn't feel her own hand against her throat. Her eyes refused to focus on the room around her, and even Anakin's voice was fading away. She could hear him- his warm, affectionate tone, occasionally breaking with emotion- but her mind refused to comprehend his words.

"You made me… so happy, Anakin…" she breathed, trying to make out his face.  
Just one last time, she pleaded with the Force. Just let me see him one last time.  
Anakin leaned closer to her, his gloved hand gently cupping her cheek. And she could see him- his cheeks hollow, like hers, from hunger; his blue eyes burned with grief, and his face was damp with tears.  
"Just hold on, Padmé." Anakin whispered, his hoarse voice trembling. "I won't let you die," he swore. "I won't. I promise."  
She clutched his hand as if it was her lifeline.  
"I can't… I can't breathe…." She gasped, "Anakin… help me…"  
Black spots swam before her eyes, a reddish haze smeared over her vision, and she lapsed into unconsciousness.

When she woke up, Obi-Wan was sitting beside her. He'd brought her powerful medicine from Utupau, strong enough to get her out of bed. But he needed her help. Horror washed over Amidala as he explained: Anakin had turned to the Dark Side, and they needed to find him immediately. Amidala struggled to recall what Anakin had tried to tell her, the words she had barely comprehended….

Mustafar. Chancellor- Emperor- Palpatine sent him to Mustafar. Amidala and Obi-Wan raced to the dark world.

And then….

_Oh, gods…._  
The blistering heat, the ash blowing into her face, choking her. The fortress filled with corpses. Anakin coldly standing over them, his eyes stained the ugly yellow of the Sith. And then…. Oh, _sharrows,_ then what? Amidala could barely remember. Anakin and Obi-Wan left the fortress, preparing to duel. She'd been trapped within the citadel, unable to leave it on her own; it was like a nightmare in which she was completely paralyzed, able only to wait, her heart racing as a thousand horrible futures slowly crept toward her.

She fought to pull up the memories; it was as if her mind was shielding itself from whatever terrors had unfolded. Her stomach sank as the picture formed. There was a terrible, thunderous sound of impact, like a turbolaser striking the black crust of Mustafar. It came again, and again, and again, closer each time, the sound of an abhorrent giant inevitably treading towards her. It was so close and loud that the floor trembled beneath her feet. The walls trembled, the ceiling trembled, and with a flash of red light, they collapsed.

Amidala threw herself beneath a table, curling her body protectively around her stomach, around her unborn child. Something unbearably heavy slammed atop her back, and she couldn't breathe. She couldn't speak. She frozen….  
Petrified….  
A dreamer in a living nightmare, slowly being crushed….

Obi-Wan was shouting her name, then screaming it. He stepped close to her, so close she could see his singed boots. Amidala drew what little air she could into her lungs, and tried to scream, shout, make a sound, anything. What came out was a small whimper.

It was enough. Obi-Wan whirled around immediately, using the Force to lift the rubble off her back, and she collapsed. Once again, everything faded to black….

Only to come back into focus at an entirely different place.  
_A med center,_ she realized dimly. _Thank the Force…._  
She felt numb, and cold, and it scared her more than any pain possibly could have. She couldn't feel her legs, or most of her torso. A med droid hovered to her side to deliver a message: they needed to operate immediately.  
_"Regretfully, we cannot save both you and your children." The white droid said in an acceptably sympathetic tone. "We ask that you make this decision soon."_  
_Amidala nodded, a lump forming in her throat. "Save my baby, please," she answered._  
_"Wait… please," Obi-Wan said to the droid. He was here, and he was alive…. Which meant…. Amidala felt her heart stop._  
**_Anakin is dead._**  
_"Please, there has to be something, anything more you can do…." Obi-Wan trailed off; the Jedi's words had no effect on the plastoid med droid._  
_Amidala broke into tears._  
**_Anakin is dead._**  
_"Just save my baby, please, help him," she pleaded, "we're wasting time."_  
_Anakin might have died, but their child would live. She could do that much._

* * *

"Padmé? Padmé, can you hear us now?" Obi-Wan asked gently. His voice floated to her through the darkness.  
Amidala felt her eyes flutter open. She glanced down- and her stomach was perfectly flat.  
"Obi-Wan?" She asked, her heart stopping. "Where's my baby?"

* * *

Her last sobs had died away some time ago- she didn't know how long- and the windowless room was unsettlingly silent. Amidala had her face buried in her hands; her elbows rested on her knees, and she ignored the discomfort it caused. Her long, dark curls draped themselves across her back like a blanket, but did nothing to comfort or warm her.

"If…" Obi-Wan hesitated, then continued. "If it brings you any comfort at all… before he died, Anakin returned to the light. Seeing Vader caused him to recognize the evil of the Sith. By stalling Vader, Anakin allowed us to escape."  
A few new tears welled up with the knowledge, but Amidala fiercely held them back.

"I'm going to die soon, aren't I?" She asked, her throat very tight.  
"Not by the virus, no." Obi-Wan answered. "Once the Separatists were defeated, I went to Mortae and found your medicine. You made a full recovery while you were unconscious."  
Amidala paused, her mind working through the implications. "How long was I out?" She asked thickly, finally pulling her face out of her hands. Obi-Wan sighed again, and she knew this would not be an easy explanation.

"Your heart stopped," The Jedi Knight said, "and you were placed on life support for some time."  
"Some time? Obi-Wan," Amidala asked, her voice turning to a slightly higher pitch, "Obi-Wan, how long was I on life support?"  
Obi-Wan paused. Then he looked her in the eyes. "Ten years." He answered.  
Amidala was speechless. "Ten years," she repeated, seeking confirmation of the bizarre fact.  
"Ten years. Yes," he answered.  
"That's… That's not possible. I can't just wake up from that." Amidala's raw voice broke as she shook her head.

"It wouldn't be possible," Obi-Wan said, "if it weren't for this." The Jedi reached forward, and held up the necklace she was wearing. At first, Amidala thought it was her japor snippet- she'd worn it every day, even to Mustafar- but it was a piece of jewelry she'd never seen before. It was a smooth, green stone, radiating fading bits of heat and light.

"What is this?" Amidala asked softly, cradling it in the palm of her hand. For some reason, it was mesmerizing.  
"A healing amulet from Dathomir," Obi-Wan replied. "It was forged by the Nightsisters long ago."  
"You're kidding," she breathed. She didn't know much about the Nightsisters, only what stories Anakin had recounted for her. At the moment, one story in particular stood out to her: how Mother Talzin and the Nightsisters healed Darth Maul, years after the Sith Lord was cut in two by Obi-Wan.

She brushed a dark lock of hair out of her eyes. There wasn't a single strand of gray in it- very odd, considering she was thirty-eight years old now. Amidala held her hands out before her. They were perfectly smooth; they looked no different from when she'd last seen them a decade ago.  
"Obi-Wan…" she began hesitantly. He raised his head, his blue eyes softly encouraging her.  
"Do I… do I look any different? Honestly?" Amidala finished, uncertain if she wanted to hear the answer.  
"Not at all," Obi-Wan answered, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "We didn't want you to be frightened when you woke up, so we asked the med droids to do what they could. The changes are reversible, if you decide that's what you want, but-"  
"No," Amidala replied. Her smooth hands trembled slightly. It wasn't an issue of vanity; how she looked now, that was the last remnant of her life with Anakin, and with their unborn son, Jinn.

They hadn't known if they were having a son, or a daughter- she and Anakin both wanted it to be a surprise. Amidala would've sworn on her life that they were having a son, citing "motherly intuition," but Anakin's teasing reply was always the same: when their daughter was born, Amidala would owe him fifty credits.

Amidala had been right after all- a small smile formed on her lips, along with an unspoken "I told you so." But it faded as quickly as a ghost. She had no one to tell it to.

Anakin and Jinn were both… gone. It wasn't Anakin who'd told her she'd had a son- Obi-Wan had told her, once she woke up.  
The med droids had done everything they could, but….

Amidala took in a shaking breath. "Where are they buried?" She forced herself to ask.

* * *

They stood together at the viewport, staring out into Polis Massa's vast starscape. Obi-Wan wrapped his arm around her, his hand a steady weight on Amidala's slight shoulder. To her right stood Sabine Wren. Amidala reached out and took her small hand.  
Sabine had lost her home and her family because of the Empire, and had come to visit out of empathy for Amidala's situation. Sabine brought companionship- which Amidala was beyond grateful for- but more than that, Sabine had brought Amidala a sense of closure.

There was a tradition in Clan Wren, dating back to the beginnings of the Republic, perhaps even earlier. When a warrior fell in battle, their fellow soldiers had little time to mourn before the next fight began. To help themselves move on, each warrior kept a leather cord around their neck, and added a bead in remembrance of each fallen brother or beads could be made of bone, or wood, or shells; sometimes they were painted, sometimes plain, whatever best encompassed the fallen warrior's spirit.  
After Obi-Wan finished speaking to Amidala, Sabine came to her hidden room. The young rebel brought a leather cord, a box of paints, and two large wooden beads.

Sabine was a skilled artist, and had patiently detailed each bead as Amidala requested. The former queen brought her free hand up to her collar bone, her fingers gently tracing the necklace that now rested there.

The bead for Anakin was painted blue, but not it was not a simple, flat color. It was as if a drop of the sea was wrapped around the leather cord. His favorite color had been blue- Amidala still remembered how his jaw dropped the first time he saw a waterfall in person. On top of the bead's sea pattern, there was a small Ellia tree, its white flowers in full bloom.

During the Clone Wars, they'd promised to take care of each other's funeral arrangements, if anything ever happened to the other. Amidala hadn't wanted to be buried under Naboo's polytheistic customs, and Anakin hadn't wanted to be entombed in the Jedi Temple, as was the Order's custom.  
_"Gods, Padmé, it's the last place in the galaxy I'd want to be. Even Tatooine would be better than ending up in there." He said, a small shudder accompanying the words._  
_"I promise, I won't let that happen." Amidala vowed, taking his hand. _It would be alright- technically speaking, Anakin had left the Jedi Order; Amidala was his wife now, and she would have the right to bury him- not the Jedi.

_"If you can…" He hesitantly began._  
_"Anything." Amidala said, squeezing his hand._  
_"Bring me back to Naboo, okay? Somewhere you might want to be… to be buried, too, someday. Somewhere beautiful, by the lakes, or the Ellia trees. Somewhere that wouldn't make you sad to visit." Anakin asked her._  
_"I will," Amidala answered solemnly. And she meant it._

Anakin had no grave, according to Obi-Wan. Amidala didn't want to think about what Vader might have done to her husband. She could only assume that Vader had left him there, on Mustafar's black shores. Then again… it would have been easy, incredibly easy, to burn Anakin's body, simply kick it aside into the boiling magma rivers….

Amidala shuddered, pushing the macabre thought aside.  
_I'm so sorry, sweetheart….  
_At least this way, with the Mandalorian necklace, she had some small way of keeping her promise. It was beautiful, and although it saddened her, it didn't depress her in the same manner a tombstone did. It had the Ellia tree, and the lakes Anakin had spoken of…. It wasn't much, but she knew Anakin would forgive her for that.  
Jinn's bead was much simpler: it was pure white, with no other markings. She'd never had the chance to see her child, but she knew him enough to know that she loved him, and that she would always love him.

_There is no death; there is the Force…._  
That was what the Jedi Council said, in their revised Jedi Code; they said more outside of it, as well. They said that there was no individual consciousness after death. Only the Force. But Amidala still remembered Qui-Gon's words, words that he had passed on to Anakin, and to her.

_"Emotion; yet peace, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon gently corrected. "Death; yet the Force."_  
_"I know, Master. I only meant to teach Anakin and Padm_é_ the code that the Jedi Council uses." Obi-Wan replied, his padawan braid swishing with the movement of his head.  
__Qui-Gon pulled out a durasteel stool, resting his elbows on the wobbly table as he took a seat. "And it is a noble code, indeed. But not one true to the Jedi Order's beginning."_

Amidala closed her eyes, remembering the man she and Anakin had named their son after- a son who, like his namesake, had been murdered by a Sith Lord.  
_Death; yet the Force…. Emotion; yet peace…._

Sabine squeezed her hand, and Amidala nodded, opening her caramel eyes. Anakin had no grave, and neither did Jinn: her son's ashes had been scattered into the twinkling starscape outside Polis Massa. Amidala had no record of their funeral, no sense of closure, but Sabine had come to her rescue once again.

The latter woman pressed a small button on her belt, and after a few seconds delay, Amidala saw swirls of blue and teal twirling through the starscape. The three of them huddled together in the viewport, staring into the infinite blackness, watching the streaks of color slowly float away. Sabine had released the extra paint they hadn't used when painting the Mandalorian necklace, and it floated through space, breathtaking ribbons of lilac and silver twisting their way into the darkness, more beautiful than fireworks.

Amidala quickly swiped at her burning eyes.  
_Klaveno, Ilola…._  
_Goodbye, sweetheart…._  
She stepped up to the transparisteel, placing her hand on its cool surface, as if that would bring her closer to the ones she'd lost.  
_I know you sacrificed yourself, Anakin, so that I could live. I won't waste that. I promise you._  
Her chest rose and fell heavily, her extended hand quivered. Amidala rested her forehead on the viewport, screwing her eyes shut.  
_I promise you…._

"Sabine," Amidala said once she'd regained her voice, "you said you're with…" She paused, not wanting to say the words in a public area, even with no one else in sight.  
_You're with a rebellion?_  
"I am." Sabine answered, laying a hand on Amidala's shoulder. "So is Master Kenobi."  
"I want to help." Amidala replied thickly. "I'll scrub floors if that's what you need. I just…" She lifted her head, staring out into the starscape, at the ribbons of paint intertwining in the distance. "I need to fight." She felt as if a fire was burning beneath her ribs, dragging her out of the ashes of her life. "I won't let the Sith win. I won't let them ruin anyone else's life."

In the reflection on the viewport, Amidala saw Sabine and Obi-Wan exchange a glance.  
"Padmé, if you need time, we understand." Obi-Wan said. "But if you're ready… we have a mission lined up. Something we need your help with."  
Amidala nodded. She snapped around to face them with all the eagerness of a rookie soldier.  
"Anything you need, I'll do it." Amidala promised.  
"The mission starts the day after tomorrow- our part of it, anyway, if you decide to be involved." Obi-Wan stated, his blue eyes alight with a cautious hope. That small spark in his gaze was infectious, and it filled Amidala with anticipation. 'Cautious hope,' coming from Obi-Wan Kenobi, was worth more than a thousand others' guarantees of victory.  
"We plan to assassinate Darth Vader." Obi-Wan concluded.

Amidala's jaw dropped. "Assassinate? Obi-Wan, that's not-"  
_Not the Jedi way,_ she started to say. But that was hardly the best thing to say aloud. Then again, neither was "assassinate Darth Vader."  
"You're sure- Obi-Wan, you're sure there aren't any other options?" Amidala asked, biting her tongue so as not to bombard him with questions.  
"Believe me, Padmé, we're certain." Obi-Wan said heavily. His shoulders sagged forward, and the silver hairs in his beard seemed highlighted by the med center's bright glowpanels. The Jedi Knight looked as if a thousand years had passed since he'd last seen her, instead of ten.  
"Then I'll do it." Amidala nodded, as if confirming the decision to herself.

_Watch your steps, Lord Vader…. I'm coming._


	7. Plans

_**Author's Note:**_

_Thanks to everyone who followed/favorited/wrote reviews, especially Peyton- I couldn't send you a PM because you used a guest account, but I wanted to let you know that I really appreciate what you wrote; it was so thoughtful! You guys always make my day. I hope you all enjoy chapter six :)_

* * *

***** 2 DAYS BEFORE EMPIRE DAY: AFTERNOON *****

They were all waiting for her when Obi-Wan and Sabine escorted her to the back of the storage sublevel.  
"Queen Amidala," a green-skinned twi'lek greeted her, setting aside the dress she was stitching. "We're so glad to have you here."  
Amidala inclined her head, putting on her warmest smile. "I'm glad that there are people fighting back in the first place." She replied. "I can't thank you enough for letting me help you."  
"The honor is all ours, your majesty." A tall man- perhaps a blind one, judging from the visor wrapping around his eyes- replied. He gestured to the long shelf they were using as a table, and pulled out a chair for her.  
"Please. Call me Padmé," she insisted, tucking a dark curl of hair behind her ear as she moved to sit in the rickety chair.

"Padmé, this is Kanan Jarrus, another Jedi who'd gone into hiding." Obi-Wan gestured to the man who'd given her the chair. "And this is Hera Syndulla, the _Ghost_ crew's pilot." Obi-Wan continued, motioning to the twi'lek woman beside Amidala.  
"Hera Syndulla… It's a familiar name," Amidala said aloud, hoping the repetition would jog her memory.

"We've met before. You were on a mercy mission to Ryloth," Hera recalled. The pilot's cheeks turned a smidge pink, and she looked down to her sewing project. "I was seven or eight, and I'd gotten lost. You were the only person I could recognize, so I went up to you," Hera laughed sheepishly.  
Amidala's caramel eyes widened. "Hera! Of course," She said with a smile.  
_How old is she now? Twenty or twenty-one, at least…. _  
_I've missed so much._

"Wait- this is _that_ Amidala?" A dark-haired boy- about fifteen- broke into the conversation.  
"Ezra, now is not the ti-" Hera muttered, bashfully ducking her head.  
"It's her most embarrassing memory." Ezra gleefully elaborated, hopping down from his perch atop a cluttered shelf. "She'd gotten lost, and she was so flustered that she forgot to thank you for walking her back to her dad. She still remembers the time she was rude to a Queen."

"Ah, so you're _that_ Hera Syndulla?" Amidala teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.  
"Why do you even remember that, Ezra?" Hera sighed beneath her breath.  
"I write down all your truth or dare answers after we're done playing." Ezra replied, quickly leaping out of reach before the pilot could smack his arm.

"Padmé, that's Ezra Bridger, a Jedi padawan who you should, apparently, never play truth or dare with," Sabine chimed in. The teenager took a seat at the table herself.  
"I'll make a note of that," Amidala said. Privately, her heart ached- everything about Ezra, from his shaggy dark hair and blue eyes, to his quick wit and mischievous manner, seemed to embody who Anakin had been at that age.

"And- I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," Amidala said to distract herself, looking to the tall, furred alien who stood behind Hera's shoulder.  
"Zeb," he said briefly, but not unkindly. "Always good to have another rebel join us."  
"He's pretty dumb, but he can knock over stormtroopers better than a-" Ezra was cut off as Zeb growled and mock-charged him. Amidala smiled sadly, touching the bead for Anakin on her Mandalorian necklace.

"I'm not up to speed on our mission- would you mind showing me what all this is?" Amidala asked, gesturing to the workspace before her. It was covered with datacards, holos, even large sheets of flimsiplast blueprints with annotations scribbled across the surface.  
"Of course," Obi-Wan said, taking a seat at the table himself. "For more sensitive information- plans we've made in relation to these blueprints, for example- we've resorted to using flimsiplast, which can be more safely destroyed than a datacard."

"I see," Amidala said, squinting to get a better look at the tiny handwritten notes. "This blueprint here- it's based on a district of Coruscant, isn't it?"  
"Yes. It's Megablock Two, Block One, Subblock Three, to be precise." Obi-Wan answered her.  
_Two, three, one._  
"Easy enough to remember," Amidala commented. "Was that your reason for choosing it?"

"Not exactly." Sabine chimed in. She stood, reaching across the table to unfold the flimsiplast blueprint entirely.  
"_Careful,_" Hera scolded as several of her pins went flying off the table. Kanan quickly used the Force to sweep the pins off the floor and into Hera's lap.  
"Sorry," Sabine said with a wince. She reached overhead to adjust a portable glowpanel that was clipped to a high shelf; the dimly illuminated table was suddenly flooded with grimy light.

"As Miss Wren was saying," Obi-Wan began again, "we chose Megablock Two, Block One, Subblock Three for its proximity to the Imperial Palace- formerly the Jedi Temple."  
"The Jedi Temple?" Amidala asked, her brow knit together in confusion. "But that's all the way over in Megablock Sixteen."  
"Our grand and humble Emperor Sheev Palpatine, may he live forever," Ezra intoned, pulling up a chair, "reordered all of the blocks on Coruscant so that the Imperial Palace is in Megablock One, Block One-"  
"-Subblock One." Amidala finished, a bitter taste rising in her throat. "I see. And Megablock Two- that would be south of the palace?"  
"_Directly_ south of it." Sabine emphasized. "That's key. The main north-south avenue to the Imperial Palace runs through Megablock Two, Block One, Subblock One." The young rebel pointed to the wide road cutting through the cramped assortment of skyscrapers.

"Which means… if we're in Subblock Three…" Amidala slowly began, her eyes roving over the page, "we have this alley connecting us to the main avenue. So we sneak into the palace, take out Vader, and escape through Subblock Three if they block off the end of the main avenue- I mean, Avenue One?" She amended as she glanced at the map key.  
"I'll give her a B-plus," Ezra said, gauging her plan. "You want to take over from here, Kanan?"

"If you don't mind, Master Kenobi." Kanan answered as he stepped up to the blueprint.  
"Please," Obi-Wan said, offering his chair to Kanan. The latter awkwardly declined it.  
"Actually, if you wouldn't mind pointing out what I'm talking about, Master…." The blind Jedi trailed off awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.  
"Of course." Obi-Wan replied.

Kanan cleared his throat, straightening up. "You weren't far off, your majesty. That's our plan, roughly- only we'll be doing it in reverse."  
"In reverse?" Amidala asked, glad that the dusty air and dim lights hid her skeptical expression.  
"Yes, ma'am." Kanan replied gravely. "Once we manage to get onto Coruscant- getting past security is a whole other operation, but we'll explain that later- we'll want to draw Vader out, not go charging toward him."  
"That makes sense, in theory," Amidala began, keeping her tone as polite as possible. "But if we try and draw him into Subblock Three, we'll have to run through that alley. If there are clone troopers waiting for us on the other end…" She trailed off.

"Which is why we won't all be there." Sabine explained.  
"I'll make a rather public scene along Avenue One. Kanan and Ezra will assist me." Obi-Wan said. "On the day we plan to carry out this mission, Empire Day-"  
"Empire Day?" Amidala broke in.  
"The anniversary of the Empire's establishment." Obi-Wan patiently elaborated.  
"There's a huge celebration every year on Coruscant." Ezra added.  
"Right. Sorry." Amidala said, a small flush creeping up her cheeks. "You were saying, on Empire Day…?"

"Yes. On Empire Day, I'll make a very public appearance with Kanan and Ezra at Avenue One." Obi-Wan continued, pointing out the appropriate place on the flimsiplast map. "Several reliable sources have confirmed that on the holiday, Vader will be at the Imperial Palace, guarding the Emperor."  
Amidala felt a tremor ripple up her spine at the villain's name.  
"Vader has always been charged with… neutralizing… all rebel and Jedi threats. He lives in infamy for it," Obi-Wan said, his blue eyes suddenly hollow. "And… given our confrontation on Mustafar, his hatred for me is personal."  
Amidala nodded, a lump in her throat and her eyes trained studiously on the table.  
"It's a safe gamble that once I make myself known, Vader will race down Avenue One and arrive at my location in Subblock One within minutes. At which point, I'll lead him down the alley, towards Subblock Three." Obi-Wan explained.

"I'll be waiting on this rooftop in Subblock One." Sabine said, pointing to the appropriate place. "It's west of Avenue One, and a couple buildings back from the actual street. Vader will be heading east, toward the alley leading to Subblock Three, so there's not much chance he'll see me."  
"Alright," Amidala said, squinting to make out the map in the dingy glowpanels of the sublevel. "I take it you have a role to play there?"  
"I'll be waiting with a sniper rifle, and I'll have sights on the alley that leads to Subblock Three. And Zeb will be with me as a lookout." Sabine replied.

"It makes sense." Amidala agreed, drumming a finger thoughtfully against her chapped lips. "But I still don't understand why you need me."  
"The problem isn't getting Vader to the alley," Obi-Wan elaborated. He leaned forward, elbows on the cool durasteel table. "The problem is keeping him distracted long enough for Sabine to take the shot." His blue eyes held Amidala's with curious intensity.  
"Which is my role," Amidala hedged her bets.  
"Yes." Obi-Wan confirmed. There was a pregnant pause.

"Padmé, we all understand if you need time…" Obi-Wan began cautiously.  
Amidala sighed, and reached out to grasp his hand. She held his gaze. "Obi-Wan… I mean this is the best of ways, but please- stop babying me. I'm a grown woman. We're in the middle of a war. Whatever it is, I'll deal with it." She said firmly. Obi-Wan nodded, laughing slightly.  
"Forgive me, mi'lady." The Jedi Master said. "You'll have to spare an old man's foolishness."  
"You're not _that _old." Amidala replied with a lopsided smile. Even so, her eyes sadly traced the gray streaks in his amber beard, the crow's feet around his eyes….  
_Ten years. I've missed __**ten years….**__  
_

"In this case, I suppose it's best to be blunt." Obi-Wan began again. "Padmé, Vader's jealousy, his… interest… in you has lingered. It borders on obsession."  
"How so?" Amidala asked, her dark eyes narrowed, her mind spitting fire at the Dark Lord who'd murdered her family. Obi-Wan stood with a sigh, thoughtfully stroking his beard.  
The Jedi Master paced around the table as he spoke. "In what little spare time he has, Vader visits eclectic worlds, with no explanation. All anyone knows is that he arrives on an urgent mission that the Emperor has made no mention of. Vader always completes the missions on his own- even his own troops don't know what he does."  
"Let me guess. It's not good." Hera said, an edge of trepidation in her flat tone.  
"Rebel operatives were unable to find a pattern in Vader's chosen locales, but…" Obi-Wan paused, standing still once more, hands resting on the cluttered table. "Every world Vader visited was, in the Jedi Archives, associated with… various necromantic cults, artifacts, or experiments."

"_Necromantic?"_ Amidala breathed. Her face was cold, pale, all the blood drained from it. "Obi-Wan… you don't think he means to…"  
"I do." The Master grimly replied. "There are rumors- far too many of them- that Vader's brutal interrogation methods are often experiments themselves."  
Amidala felt her knees go weak, despite the fact that she was still seated.  
"Vader seems to avoid Naboo whenever possible, but when he is forced to return there, he visits your tomb." Obi-Wan continued. "Sometimes for hours on end."  
"Mother of moons," Amidala whispered. Her chest rose and fell heavily.

"That this pattern has continued consistently over the past ten years suggests…" Obi-Wan began, sitting beside her. He took her hand and squeezed it softly. "Well, it suggests that if I were to suddenly disappear in the alley leading to Subblock Three, and you were to appear… perhaps as a ghostly visage…"  
"He'd freeze. Long enough for Sabine to take the shot." Amidala said, her voice finally coming through her numb lips. She looked around the table, holding everyone's gaze in turn. "I'll do it." Amidala assured them.

"Padmé it is essential- _essential,_" Obi-Wan stressed, "that if something happens, if Vader isn't killed, you must escape. _Immediately._ Or else-"  
"-or else he's not letting me go." Amidala finished for him. She trembled. "And there's no way in all six hells that you're sending a rescue party."  
"It would… be unwise. Impractical." Obi-Wan agreed. "It's unlikely that Vader would keep you in the Imperial Palace if he captured you- he wouldn't want you within the Emperor's grasp. We will do everything we can, if this goes wrong, but once Vader takes you out of the palace, to a more secure location-"  
"I understand." Amidala said crisply. She forced herself to uncurl her fists.

"Empire Day is the day after tomorrow," Kanan spoke up. "We'll have to leave soon if we want to make it to Coruscant in time, your majesty."  
"I understand," Amidala repeated. "What do you need me to do before then?"

"Well, for starters," Hera said, holding up the blue dress she was still sewing, "you could try this on."  
"It's a recreation of your funeral gown." Obi-Wan explained.  
"My- I'm sorry, my _funeral?_ How is that even possible?" Amidala looked to Obi-Wan. "I thought I'd been here the entire time."  
"Your former body double, Sabé, helped us to forge it." Obi-Wan elaborated. "It was broadcast across the holonet. It's likely that Vader saw the recording, and-"  
"There's a lot of shock value to me showing up in this." Amidala said, nodding. "Okay."  
A thought flashed through her mind, so alarming she nearly jumped out of her skin. "Obi-Wan, is Sabé- and my parents, my sister, my nieces- are they-"  
"They're all safe." Obi-Wan assured her. "But only Sabé was told any of the truth. And a bare minimum, at that."

Amidala sighed in relief, closing her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered, almost to the Force itself. Her family was safer that way. As for Sabé… well, Amidala's friend had always preferred to live life on the edge. It was a miracle the bodyguard had seen her twentieth lifeday, anyway.

_Two days…._  
Two more days, and one way or another, this nightmare would be over. She'd damn Vader to the sixth circle of Chaos, or else…  
_Or else, Anakin, sweetie,_ she thought grimly, _I think I'll see you and Jinn soon._

* * *

***** 2 DAYS BEFORE EMPIRE DAY: NIGHT - CORUSCANT. *****

_I'll see you soon._  
The feeling haunted him, lingering with him in the shadows of Coruscant. Vader moved restlessly through the empty rooms, not attempting to flee the strange feeling, but chasing it. He had been pursuing it for hours, leaving his post on the _Executor_ to come planetside. He'd first entered his castle at the central district of Coruscant. The Emperor was under the impression that Vader left his castle empty, entering it only when required to use his meditation chamber there. In truth, it was one of the few places Vader had deemed safe to store his research.

The Dark Lord never spent time there, never conducted his experiments or studies there. He simply hid the various texts and artifacts he'd recovered (along with, more rarely, prisoners; cultists who showed promise or Force-sensitives who claimed unnatural abilities) in a secret chamber he'd constructed beneath the castle's foundation. Then Vader would leave, praying that Palpatine's own dark presence would blind the Emperor to the strength of the dark side gathering in Vader's "empty" castle.

When the strange, lingering feeling had first rolled over him, Vader immediately headed to his castle, hoping that inspiration might strike. But none came, and so Vader wandered restlessly through Coruscant, heading wherever the Force deemed lead him in the waning hours. He brought nothing but his lightsaber and his journal- a thick, black book that contained all his notes, a painstakingly condensed account of a decade of research and experimentation. There was a temptation to bring all he could carry, each artifact and worn scroll he could stuff into a satchel. But doing so had caused the strange feeling to retreat- as if it, as if _she_ was frightened- and so Vader had immediately shoved the priceless treasures away, fleeing his castle as if the forbidden objects had burned him.

_I'll see you soon._  
He could feel it- he could _hear_ it. Her voice…. Her soft, beautiful, reassuring voice….  
_Padmé…._  
It would be a decade, come two days from now, when he had last seen her. When he had last held her in his arms, her warm body wrapped around his own.  
_Would she appear? Could she… Ten years, ten years exactly. Could she be able to return, if only for a moment?_  
Was this feeling, was her voice- was it a promise sent to him from her spirit?

Or was it his own vow, echoing back to him all these years later?  
"_I'm sorry, beloved," Vader whispered, his gloved hand trembling atop the surface of her stone sarcophagus. "We'll see each other once again. Soon. I swear it."_  
Ten years ago, he had made that vow. He would have sworn it in blood, had he not been afraid of defiling such a sacred place as her tomb.  
_And now?_  
_Is this her promise, or my own, that I am sensing?_  
Hours later, he came away with no answer. No peace.

_Peace is a lie, _his mind grimly taunted, _there is only passion….  
_Only through that code- only through the power of the Dark Side- would he be able to return his wife to the realm of the living...


	8. Nightmares

***** 2 DAYS BEFORE EMPIRE DAY: NIGHT - POLIS MASSA. *****

"No… no…" A young woman's voice drifted through the night.  
Amidala groggily fumbled with the thin covers tangled around her. "Someone there?" She slurred, forcing a yawn back down her throat.  
"No… Hera," the other woman began to shriek, "Hera! NO!"  
"Sabine!" Amidala shouted, snapping awake instantly. Her heart nearly leapt out of her ribcage; she slapped a hand haphazardly against the lighting controls at her bedside, free hand fumbling for the blaster beneath her mattress-  
-but there was no blaster, she was on Polis Massa, not Coruscant, and she had no weapon-

The harsh lights of the medcenter finally flicked on. Sabine was in the bed opposite her, still asleep.  
"Don't hurt her…." Sabine moaned, shuddering beneath the thin white sheets. "Please… Hera!"  
Amidala sighed in relief.  
_She's just having a nightmare._

Amidala slipped out of her own bed, heartbeat finally slowing, and knelt down at Sabine's bedside.  
"Sabine… Sabine," Amidala called softly. "Sabine, wake up. You're having a nightmare, that's all."  
Sabine didn't respond. The teenager raised a hand, batting away some unknown demon. "Hera…."  
Amidala gently reached out, grabbing the young woman's hand before she hurt herself.

Sabine sat bolt upright, wild-eyed, hand closing around Amidala's wrist. The former Queen barely had time to gasp in shock before automatically twisting her wrist in a circle, breaking Sabine's grasp. In a flash, Amidala drew back and raised both her hands defensively; just as quickly, Sabine had done the same.  
"Sorry!" They both cried, blushing.  
"No, really, it was my fault-" Sabine insisted, running her hands anxiously through her colored hair.  
"Oh, no, Sabine- I-I shouldn't have woken you up like that. I'm sorry." Amidala tried not to stammer as she stepped back, moving to sit on her own bed, facing her roommate.

The rebels were only permitted to use a few rooms within the medcenter- sympathizers in the medcenter staff had sectioned off one of the lowest level's unused corridors; they'd also turned off all the holocams in that area. As there were only five rooms in the area- which needed to be occupied by six rebels, two Jedi Masters, and a senator-almost everyone had a roommate. Amidala was grateful that Sabine had offered to be hers.

"I used to be a bodyguard for Queen Ilena, before I was elected myself," Amidala rather sheepishly explained her defensive reaction. "I kept up the training with my own bodyguards, even when I was a senator. I guess it's just-"  
"-reflexes. Ugh, I know," Sabine laughed a bit. "There... " The teenager looked down, embarrassed, fiddling with her neon crop-top. "There were a lot of combat training courses I took at the Imperial Academy."

"It must have been very difficult. Leaving your life behind like that," Amidala said softly. Sabine nodded, her cheeks still burning.  
"Sometimes, it feels like I never even left." Sabine replied, looking around the empty medcenter room helplessly. "I still have all these habits. I still scan the room the way they taught me, still watch people's body language the same way..."  
"Still have those combat training reflexes," Amidala teased, brown eyes twinkling.  
Sabine smiled wryly. "Definitely those. And the Imperial paranoia. That's the best part." She shook her head.  
"To be fair…" Amidala began somewhat hesitantly, tucking her loose curls behind her ear, "Palpatine had us both fooled. The entire galaxy, too. I'm sure we've all been a bit more-"  
"-cynical. I know." Sabine sighed.  
"I was going to say critical, since then." Amidala offered, a small smile on her lips.

Sabine smiled back, shifting to sit cross-legged on her small bed. "I'm sorry about the nightmares. It's just… being here. Having the small room, the hard bed, the gray everything." Sabine went on, gesturing to their drab surroundings. "It's all a little too Imperial. You know?"  
Amidala nodded, tears pricking at her eyes. "It's alright. I'm used to being up. Anakin had nightmares every night, too." She quickly swiped at her burning eyes.

Sabine nodded sympathetically. "How are you holding up?" She asked. "It seems like you had a rough night."  
"It's…" Amidala self-consciously raised a hand to her puffy, red eyes. She'd cried herself to sleep that night, albeit silently. "I don't know, Sabine. I mean, how are you even supposed to hold it together during something like this?" Amidala asked, her voice breaking.  
"Hey," Sabine hushed her, moving across the gap between their beds to sit beside Amidala. "I don't think anyone's expecting you to keep it together, except for you."  
"I know, but... I have to. Just for now." Amidala strained to say with a steady voice.  
_I'm not going to cry. Not now. Not again._  
"Just for two more days. We'll blow that bastard Sith Lord's face off. And then I'm gonna find you a support group or something. Okay? We can go together." Sabine wrapped an arm around the former Queen's shoulders.  
Amidala laughed slightly. "That's sweet of you, Sabine. But I really doubt there's a support group for formerly comatose widows."  
"We can start one up. We'll call it the 'Support Group for Beings Traumatized by Palpatine and Vader.' The whole Rebel Alliance will probably show up." Sabine teased.  
Amidala laughed, then- a real, good, genuine laugh that lifted a thousand pounds off her shoulders.

"It's just… I don't_ feel_ like I'm a thirty-eight year old widow. It's like I'm in someone else's body-" Amidala confessed, looking over her hands… her smooth, unnaturally smooth hands, the hands of her twenty-eight year old self- "or at least, like I'm some other person's life."

Sabine paused for a moment, her slim arm still wrapped around Amidala's shoulders. The Mandalorian rubbed her hand soothingly across Amidala's pale shoulder.  
"Think of it like this," Sabine began. "The clone troopers were created with accelerated aging, weren't they?"  
Amidala nodded.  
"They might've been- biologically speaking- about ten years old when they went to fight in the Clone Wars." Sabine continued. "But mentally, they're adults. And by that point, they look and sound like adults, too."  
"Right," Amidala replied, waiting for Sabine to come to her conclusion.  
"My point is, you'd never call them children at that point. As far as anybody's concerned, they're adults." Sabine said, catching Amidala's eye. "I'd think it's more or less the same for you. You think like you're twenty-eight, you look like you're twenty-eight. And it's obvious you're still in love with Anakin- of course you would be." Sabine gently squeezed her shoulder. "I wouldn't resign yourself to trying to be a thirty-eight year old widow. That's not who you really are."  
"Thank you," Padmé Amidala said, wholeheartedly. On impulse, she pulled Sabine into a tight hug. Sabine froze for a moment- then she held Padmé just as tightly.

_At least I have this much,_ Padmé thought. _At least Vader didn't take away who I am._  
_H_ow could he have? She was, she would always be, Padmé Amidala- Padmé Amidala-Skywalker. She was the wife of Anakin Skywalker, and the mother of Jinn Skywalker; she might have lost her family, but she would never stop belonging to them. Never.

Vader had taken them from her. But he could never take her heart away from them, not truly.  
_Never,_ Padmé vowed silently.

"You know? That could be your call sign," Sabine said thoughtfully as they pulled away from each other.  
It took Padmé a moment to realize what she meant. "Widow? Really?"  
"Really," Sabine responded, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Like the spiders that kill their mates. If Vader wants you so blasted bad..."  
"He'll get what's coming to him." Amidala finished for her, that same malicious spark reflected in the former Queen's smile. "Widow and Wren. It has a nice ring to it."  
Sabine leapt up, inspiration in her copper eyes. "Give me five seconds- I'll grab a sheet of flimsiplast-"

"What for?" Padmé asked, mystified. The spry teenager rolled across her bed, reached into the duffle bag stowed beneath it, and rifled through her belongings.  
"Nothing like a bit'a art to really stick it to the Empire," Sabine explained through the pen clenched between her teeth. She leapt up, neon, paint-splattered pajamas rustling in the silent night. "Just give me five seconds here…." Sabine said, kicking her bag back toward her edge of the room. She carefully began to sketch a design in dark ink. The former Queen obediently stayed still, resisting the urge to peek at Sabine's work-in-progress.  
Sabine proudly handed over the sketch a few minutes later. "Any suggestions?" The teenager asked.  
Padmé grinned as she looked over the drawing. It featured a small, colorful bird midflight- Sabine's inkwork was so skilled that it nearly looked as if it had been painted in watercolor. Atop the bird's back, between its wing joints, was a small, dark spider.  
"Widow and Wren," Padmé murmured.

"I've got a feeling we'll make quite the dream team," Sabine quipped with a smile. "Have you ever tried spray painting before?"  
"Only oil painting." Padmé replied softly, still a bit awed by Sabine's skill.  
The younger rebel let out a low whistle. "Oil painting? I've always loved the ones from Naboo."  
"I wasn't exactly a master. My ex-boyfriend, Palo, was a painter. He tried to teach me a few times." Padmé admitted.  
"That's alright. The best part about painting is that if you mess up, you just start over on top of it," Sabine encouraged her, leaping off the bed again. "And spray painting's messy to begin with, anyway."  
"What in the worlds are we going to paint?" Padmé asked, shivering as she stepped off the bed herself, onto the frigid tile floor. "We can't vandalize the medcenter."  
"Not with that attitude we can't." Sabine replied with infectious enthusiasm. She burst out laughing at the quiet horror on Padme's face. "I'm kidding. Come on. We're gonna paint a bedsheet; I'll hang it in my room on the Ghost later."

"Oh," Padmé sighed with relief. For a moment, she stood shivering in her thin clothing: a light pink hospital shirt, and matching bottoms. With belated embarrassment, Padmé realized this was all she'd worn to her meeting with the Ghost crew earlier that day. It was probably all she'd worn for the past ten years.  
"You wouldn't happen to have some clothes I could borrow, would you?" Padmé tentatively asked Sabine. The rebel teen had already been such a gracious host, and the last thing Padmé wanted to do was ask too much of her.  
"Absolutely," Sabine responded, tossing her black duffle bag to Padme.

The latter woman grunted slightly as she struggled to hold it.  
"Gods… I really need to start doing pushups," Padmé groaned, dumping the bag on her thin cot. Obi-Wan had told her the med droids stopped her muscles from atrophying, through various forms of electrical stimulation- it was hard to believe him now that she was struggling to hold a bag of clothing.  
"Sorry- forgot how many spray paint cans I keep in there. Guess I'm just used to it." Sabine apologized as she stood atop her own cot. She yanked the white sheet off her bed. Standing on tiptoe, the slight woman tucked the edge of the sheet between two of the ceiling's removable panels.  
"Ah… that would explain it." Padmé said, unzipping the bag to find at least twenty thick durasteel cans. Any clothes Sabine owned were likely buried beneath the art supplies.

"Take whatever you want. I can always get a couple new outfits later." Sabine offered, nearly done hanging the sheet from the ceiling.  
"Are you sure?" Padmé asked.  
"Yeah, of course," Sabine replied, hopping down from her creaky cot.

Padmé gave her a grateful smile, then began to delicately sort through her roommate's clothing. There was an outfit or two for each biome the rebel might encounter- a tiny tube top and shorts for milder climates; fleece-lined trousers for more frigid worlds; even a shimmersilk dress for formal events. Eventually, Padmé came across some things she hoped Sabine wouldn't miss: a simple, long-sleeved black top, and soft leggings to match. The tight shirt was stained with paints spanning the entire spectrum of color, and it brought a gentle smile to her lips as she pulled it on.

"Here- this looks nice with it," Sabine pointed out, tossing Padmé a knit gray shawl. "I'll trade you for the pink shirt."  
Padmé smiled, happily tossing her old hospital shirt to Sabine. The former woman pulled on her new shawl as she hastily ran her fingers through her hair.  
_Gods, I'm a mess… Sab_é _would be horrified._

_"If we're going to die, we might as well look good doing it." The bodyguard had once acidly commented, tossing Amidala her makeup bag- the Naboo Senator was hastily packing her bags at three in the morning, rushing off into another risky assignment._  
_"It's important, __Sab_é_." Amidala gritted her teeth, knowing that arguing with __Sab_é_ was a quick way to drive yourself insane. "Chancellor Palpatine asked for me, specifically, to go- twice. Besides, I already told you, you don't have to come."_  
_"Someone has to make sure you look good when the Separatists gun you down," __Sab_é_ dryly replied, shoving some of her own clothes into a satchel. "And next time the Chancellor calls to send you into a battle zone, let me now. I'll tell him exactly where he can stuff his assignments.…"_

"You okay?" Sabine broke into her thoughts.  
"Yeah," Padmé sighed heavily. "Just… Palpatine. He always sent me on the riskiest assignments during the Clone Wars. I always thought it was because he trusted me, but…"  
Sabine pressed a can of black spray paint into her hand. "Come on. You'll feel better. Trust me."

* * *

It was well past one in the morning, but their project was finally completed. The formerly white bedsheet was emblazoned with the calling card of Widow & Wren- the black spider atop the colorful, soaring bird. Their emblem, however, took up a relatively small portion of the final design. The two creatures were painted into the top-left corner of the bedsheet- just beneath the words Padmé had written in a blaze of defiance:  
_DOWN WITH THE DARK LORDS._  
In the center of the rebellious piece was Vader's helmet, set aflame.

"Now that," Sabine proudly declared, "is a work of art." She wiped a bit of sweat off her brow- both women were exhausted, having spent an incalculable amount of time hopping on and off of chairs and cots, trying to reach every corner of their large canvas.  
"Someday, we're gonna fly that thing from the courtyard of the Imperial Palace." Sabine said, stepping back to admire their piece.  
"I certainly hope so," Padmé agreed, dropping onto the closest cot like a dead woman.  
"I know we will." Sabine countered, sinking down beside Padmé. For a moment, they simply gazed up at their work.

Padmé ran her slim fingers across her Mandalorian necklace. "Sabine… this necklace is so beautiful. But I couldn't live with myself if Vader took it. Especially not this," she said, pointing to the small charm in the center. "Anakin carved it out of a Japor Snippet, when he was very young. He gave it to his mother for her birthday- the symbols are supposed to bring good fortune." Padmé continued, a small smile tracing her lips. "His mother gave it back to him, when their master sold Anakin. And then, a few months later, Anakin and I met. When he joined the Jedi Order, he gave the Japor Snippet to me, because he couldn't take it with him. I kept it for ten years…" She let the small trinket rest in her palm. "He was so happy when we met again, because I was wearing it that day, all those years later. And I wore it to our wedding, and I've worn it ever since." Padmé clutched her Japor Snippet tightly. "I won't let Vader get his hands on this."  
"What do you have in mind?" Sabine asked her.

* * *

It was a small tattoo, not even ten centimeters across. The wren and the widow were done in a simple black outline; the soft colors swirling around it appeared to be watercolor paint. The swirls of "paint" formed patterns recognizable only to Padmé: the markings of the Japor Snippet, the branches and flowers of an ellia tree.  
It had only taken a couple of hours for Sabine to complete the tattoo. Fueled by (far too many) cups of kaf, some cheesy holodramas playing in the background, and an overall sense of spite for the Empire, the two rebels had managed to get through the project in a single sitting.

Padmé fondly traced the edges of the design with her fingertips. The stretch marks on her stomach had faded years ago, but a faint, long scar from her emergency c-section remained. Her new tattoo was centered atop it, near her right hip; the wren's beak tilted up toward her chest- it was as if the bird was flying up toward her heart.  
"I can't thank you enough for all of this," Padmé murmured.  
"Please. I've been dying to try something like this. No one on my crew lets me tattoo them," Sabine said as she packed up her art supplies, draining her third cup of kaf. "Well, except for Ezra. But Hera practically murdered him when he tried to get one."  
"I can imagine," Padmé replied, laughing slightly. She rubbed her bleary eyes, stretching out on her cot. She was still revelling in how normal everything had been for those few hours- chatting with Sabine, poking fun at the kitschy holodramas playing in the background, drinking more kaf than any human being reasonably should. "I just wish I had more time to get to know all of you," Padmé added somewhat wistfully.  
"Well… why not?" Sabine offered, stowing her bag beneath her cot. "I have a room all to myself back on the Ghost. I wouldn't mind having a roommate, if you wouldn't." Sabine paused, biting her lip; her voice tried, desperately, not to sound vulnerable as it added: "Maybe after this mission, you could stick around?"  
Padmé beamed. "Roommates it is." The former Queen declared.  
"Sisters," Sabine amended, plopping down on the cot beside her. Padmé took her hand, and Sabine squeezed it tightly.

"I just hope you don't mind getting shot at all the time," Sabine continued.  
"Somehow, it's an occupational hazard no matter where I work." Padmé replied, wrapping her gray shawl tighter around her shoulders.  
"Tell me about it," Sabine grumbled through a wide yawn.

* * *

They were starving, so they grabbed some food before their final task. And then, creeping down the medcenter corridor, they snuck into the storage sublevel, slipping into the hidden room that had sheltered Padmé for years. And beneath the standard hospital bed was- _yes, there it is!_\- the secret compartment in the floor, where Obi-Wan had left the Nightsisters' healing amulet for years.

Reverently, Padme inscribed the words on a piece of flimsiplast:  
_In memory of Anakin and Jinn Skywalker:  
__28 Pre-Empire - 0 Post-Empire; 1 Pre-Empire - 0 Post-Empire  
__I love you always.  
__-PS.  
_She felt safe placing her initials there- a stranger would interpret "PS" as an unfinished postscript, rather than the cryptic signature of Padmé Skywalker.

With trembling hands, she took off her Japor Snippet. She pressed it to her lips for one soft, eternal moment.  
_Klavneno, mohjenas…  
__Goodbye, my loves…_  
She folded the slip of flimsiplast around the Japor Snippet and Mandalorian necklace. Then she placed the slim packet in the floor's secret compartment, carefully sealing it, ensuring that no tell-tale gap showed in the durasteel floor.  
Shaking slightly, she stood.

_Widow & Wren,_ she thought during the quiet walk back with Sabine. As much as the former Queen would miss her family, at least now they were safe from Vader.  
_And at least now I have a future…._

She wrapped an arm around Sabine's shoulders; the latter wrapped her arm around Padmé's shoulders as well.  
"Let's go kill a Sith Lord," Padme muttered on their way back.  
"Atta girl," Sabine replied, squeezing her shoulder.

Amidala had future, a family, even. Now all she had to do was survive the next forty-eight hours.  
_And if I don't… I'll make sure Vader won't, either._


	9. Arrivals

***** DAY BEFORE EMPIRE DAY - NIGHT *****

The shuttle to Coruscant rumbled in the atmosphere. Amidala had her hands folded in her lap, like a properly stoic diplomat- but her mind refused to quiet, the anxiety gnawing at her from within as the cheap flight shuddered, glowpanels flickering.  
_Not now,_ she pleaded with the Force. _Oh, gods, I can't die now- I swear on the sharrows, if this shuttle crashes into a sun **now** of all days…_  
She'd what? Shake her fist at Vader from the afterlife?

Padmé sighed, slumping back against her hard plastoid seat.  
"I still think we should have gotten on a better flight," she murmured out of the corner of her mouth, her words directed to the Jedi Master sitting beside her.  
"The better the ship, the worse it is at avoiding the Empire." Obi-Wan Kenobi mumbled back, tugging the hood of his ragged cloak lower.  
"That won't matter if this shuttle falls apart before we get there," Padmé muttered- mostly to herself. It was no use worrying now. But that wouldn't stop her.

She self-consciously pulled her cloak tighter around herself, eyeing the… questionable… other passengers on the commercial shuttle. Keenly aware that her sparkling, recreated funeral dress was worth more than the entire ship, she was careful to keep the blue gown concealed beneath her worn black cloak.

Her hand settled at her right hip, where Sabine's delicately crafted tattoo now rested. Padmé's fingertips drummed idly atop where she knew it to be. If all had gone according to plan- and oh, gods, she hoped it had- then by now, the Ghost crew and their ship were safely on Coruscant. "Safe" being a relative term, of course.

Praying all had gone well- as she had been doing all day, on her rickety flight- Padmé closed her eyes. It was her turn to rest. Obi-Wan would keep watch.

* * *

***** DAY BEFORE EMPIRE DAY: AFTERNOON *****

Sabine stood in the dingy light of Coruscant's underworld. Although only mid-afternoon, no daylight penetrated this level of the city-world. Instead, alley was awash with exclusively neon light, which could be traced back to the various business in the area. They flashily peddled exotic drinks, barely-legal prescriptions, and… other things. The kind you wouldn't want on your public record.

Sabine shook her head. Even five levels below the surface of the planet, the seedier side of Coruscant's night life could be seen.

Wisely stepping around a puddle of something on the duracrete (she had no desire to find out what the sticky substance was), she made her way to the casino at the end of the walkway.  
"Here it is," she told Ezra, "the Good Omens." She sighed, looking up at the bright, flickering sign. "Let's hope the name doesn't jinx us." She said beneath her breath.  
"Would you rather it was called the Bad Omens?" Ezra pointedly asked, crossing his arms. Sabine hid her smile.  
"Let's just get this over with," she said, punching Ezra's arm as she walked past. She held her breath as she strolled into the bright casino. Desperately, she wished it wasn't just the two of them headed in there.

The members of the Ghost crew were arriving on Coruscant in pairs, an hour apart, at markedly different spaceports. The five of them-  
_The six of us,_ Sabine amended with a small smile, thinking of Padmé-  
were high on the Empire's "Most Wanted" list. As were their faces. So as Kanan had wisely suggested, they split their arrivals- the crew was much less recognizable when they were apart.

Sabine and Ezra's arrival couldn't have gone smoother. Using a few bottles of blond hair dye, some false gills for Sabine, and a hoverchair for Ezra, they'd made it past the Imperial security checkpoint.

The fake IDs and generous bribes might have had something to do with it, too.

But they were the first pair to arrive on the Imperial world- meaning that for the next two hours, she'd have no idea if the rest of her crew was okay. Contacting them would be too risky.

Besides, they'd all meet at the Good Omens before 5:45 PM, local time- two hours from now. But if someone didn't make it there…  
Sabine swallowed tightly against the lump in her throat. If someone didn't make it there, then the rest of them would have to continue with the plan, and be off Coruscant by noon tomorrow.

But she didn't have to think about that now. Right now, all she had to do was scope out the casino, order a drink, play a few machines… In short, act casual.  
_Act casual for the next two hours, while I wonder if Kanan, Hera, and Zeb will make it here alive…_  
Right. Easy.

* * *

At 5:32, Sabine finally sighed in relief. Zeb had strolled in through the wide, swinging transparisteel doors. The tall, furred alien caught her eye- then he scanned the casino, locating Ezra.  
_Where's Kanan?!_ Sabine wanted to scream at him. Luckily, she didn't have to.

Kanan strolled in behind Zeb, playing it casual despite the deep purple bruises along his jaw. The two men parted, acting as total strangers. Zeb slowly worked his way across the gold-lined, circular chamber, and sat on a white-furred couch just behind Ezra. Kanan walked unsteadily across the plush purple carpeting. He seemed to be moving toward her.

Sabine tensed, ready to spring up and catch him if the Jedi fell.  
"We're flirting," Kanan said to her in a low voice as he met her in the bar.  
"And you're awful at it," Sabine replied, accepting the drink he'd brought her. "I don't know how in the worlds you and Spectre Two-" meaning Hera, "-manage."  
Kanan gave her a weak smile.  
"I've just told you a very funny joke," Sabine whispered, dark eyes flicking across the many strangers who might be spying on them.  
Kanan laughed on cue. "And Spectre Four-" meaning Zeb, "-is in position," the Jedi Knight informed her. "We're still flirting, by the way."  
"Really? I thought you two were just friends." Sabine dryly replied.  
"You know I meant_ us._" Kanan, unamused, said.

"We've got sixty seconds before this looks like more than a chance meeting," Sabine warned him, glancing at her wrist chrono.  
"Agreed." Kanan said- his voice was somewhat muffled, as he held his icy drink to his bruised jaw.  
"The bruises?" Sabine briefly asked, eyeing his battered form.  
"Ran into a bit of trouble with… the door greeters," he replied- Sabine knew he was talking about the guards at the Imperial security checkpoint.  
"Blast." Sabine spat. She took a sip of her stiff drink. "Think they'll send a report to the sithspawn?" She asked, referencing Vader.  
"Probably." Kanan replied. His brow creased in concern as he looked at her chronometer. "We've got thirty seconds left."

"Okay," Sabine said, thinking quickly. "Any word on Spectre Two?"  
"None, which is good news." Kanan answered. "My trouble at the checkpoint delayed me from leaving the spaceport. Last I saw, her ship hasn't entered orbit."  
"Good." Sabine glanced across the luxurious casino, finding Ezra across the room. His blue eyes met hers. Then he set his right arm behind his back, and crossed two fingers.  
"That's the signal," Sabine informed Kanan. "Spectre Six-" meaning Ezra, "-is in position."

"Time to break this off." Kanan stated.  
"Understood. We're arguing now." Sabine replied in a low tone, narrowing her eyes.  
"Are we?" Kanan asked rather tersely, slamming his drink down. The bartender- and several patrons- turned to stare.  
"Yes," Sabine emphatically whispered, crossing her arms. Kanan threw up his hands, standing so quickly he spilled his drink. It dribbled onto the soft purple carpets, despite the bartender's protests.  
"Fine! Have it your way!" Kanan shouted at the top of his lungs. Even though she knew it was just for effect, Sabine could barely keep herself from jumping at his booming voice.

Kanan must have sensed her discomfort, because he glanced back at her apologetically before topping off their performance: he picked up his delicate crystal glass from the marble bar. Then he hurled it over the bartender's head, causing the alien to shriek and chitter in terror; the crystal vessel shattered against a shelf of priceless liquor. Clenching his fist, Kanan used the Force to bring the whole shelving unit down.

Guards came charging down from the casino's upper level.  
_Kriff. They're fast. Too fast._ Sabine thought.  
In the blink of an eye, the black armored guards had crossed the circular game room; they were nearly at the bar. Sabine realized this was the opportune time to faint. Dramatically.

She did so with a loud cry, dropping directly before one of the guard's feet. The six-foot guard took an equally-dramatic tumble onto the floor. Peering through her brown eyelashes, Sabine saw Kanan easily knock out the second guard, then sprint out of the building.

Before more guards could arrive to pursue Kanan, Ezra leapt up, eager to play his role in the premediated chaos. The teenager lunged across a pazaak table, scooping up as many credit chits as he could. Several beings cried out in indignation. Alarms screeched.

Zeb crouched down behind a furred seating arrangement, only pretending to cower; the burly Lasat's role was to back them up in case of extreme danger. He wasn't needed yet.

Ezra ran at break-neck speeds for the exit, credit chits spilling out of his hands and onto the plush game room floor. The Good Omens' customers chased after him. Women in velvet gowns and Imperial officers in full dress dived to onto the purple carpeting, frantically gathering up the credit chits that were (supposedly) theirs.

Guards poured into the game room, cascading down the golden staircase like spilled liquor. Sabine leapt up, drawing a hold-out blaster from her flowing sleeve.  
"Get back or this one gets it!" She shouted, pointing the slim weapon at the cowering bartender. The few calm patrons in the casino abruptly shrieked and stampeded for the exit.

Her hold-out blaster wasn't charged- it would be impossible to fire even a stun blast. But of course, only Sabine knew that.

Therefore, three guards deviated from their course, roaring rather creative profanities at the young rebel.  
_Lovely,_ she thought. She dived behind the bar, drew a real blaster from her tall black boot, and stunned the three guards before they could blink.

"Sorry for the mess," she breathlessly apologized to the petrified bartender. Sabine tossed him a twenty-credit chit. She sprinted out of the Good Omens without checking to see if the alien had caught it.

The cool night air was a shock after the heady, perfumed casino. Sabine didn't let it slow her. She let the cold, metallic air fill her lungs as she sprinted south, scanning the neon-lit streets for the alley she needed.

_There!_ She spotted it. She dove into the dark, seemingly empty alley- then slammed into an invisible barrier. She groaned, the air slammed out of her lungs as she tumbled back.

The invisible barrier reached out and caught her.  
"Sabine! Are you okay?" It asked her.  
"Fine," she groaned, letting the invisible boy help her get her balance. "Thanks, Ezra."  
Ezra pressed something small and round into her palm. She clipped the white device onto the front of her shirt, then- as practiced- cranked the dial far to the right. A soft hum filled her ears. She looked down at her hands… yet couldn't find them.

Sabine let out an unseen smile. The protoypes had worked.

Moments later, the black-armored casino guards charged into the alley. They pulled up short after seeing the supposedly empty alley. Sabine, Ezra, and Zeb- all invisible, as hoped- sneaked around the guards, and headed toward the back entrance of the Good Omens.

Sabine let out a triumphant grin as she saw the janitor's entrance, its door slightly ajar, its lock evidently picked. Sure enough, the chaos they'd created had set off the Good Omens' burglar alarms… which meant no one noticed Kanan breaking in through the back entrance.

The three invisible rebels snuck into the casino, closing the door behind them.  
"You _will_ give me the entrance codes, Grutch," Kanan said from somewhere yet unseen.  
"I will… give you the entrance codes…" Grutch's dazed voice replied. Jedi mind tricks sure came in handy.

Sabine turned off her cloaking device, and saw a flicker of light as her friends similarly reappeared.  
"Mission Lead was right," Sabine remarked, referencing Mon Mothma. "Ghost Protocol works like a charm." Sabine unclipped the prototype cloaking device from her teal tunic, rounded a corner, and tossed the device to Kanan.  
"Careful with that," the Jedi Knight rebuked her. He smoothly caught the device mid-air. "Only twenty have been built, and we only have a few on hand. They're-"  
"Insanely expensive prototype technology, we know," Ezra interrupted, cheekily tossing his own cloaking device to Kanan. "Did you get the codes to the hangar bay?"

"I'm working on that," Kanan replied. He frowned, turning to the other being in the room- a bearded, heavily tattooed man who could only be Grutch Mergur: owner of the Good Omens. He was still standing there in a daze, scribbling something on a piece of flimsiplast.  
"Is this enough, sir?" Grutch asked dreamily, his soft tone at odds with his imposing figure.  
"That's great." Kanan said, glancing at the paper.  
The Jedi Knight nodded to Sabine. She drew her blaster in a flash, and stunned Grutch. The middle-aged man nearly collapsed in a heap, but Zeb's large paws caught Grutch; the Lasat threw the man over his shoulder.

"Where do you want 'im?" Zeb asked, grunting as he hoisted the man into the air.  
"There's a closet down that hall." Kanan pointed it out. "Hera said she'll bring us a better way of holding him once she gets here."  
Kanan turned to a computer terminal in the dusty halls. Referencing the piece of flimsiplast Grutch had given him, Kanan punched in what could only be the access codes for the Good Omens' hangar bay.

The luxurious casino, located five levels beneath Coruscant's surface, was connected to a hangar bay on the surface of Coruscant. This was made possible by a barely-legal, largely unknown, private tunnel system that led from the top level of the casino to the ground level of the hangar bay. No doubt Grutch was involved in some illegal shenanigans, and wanted a quick escape in case he landed in hot water.

The hangar bay doors could be operated from a private computer terminal within the Good Omens- the terminal that Kanan was now standing at.  
"Okay, Hera," Kanan said into his specially-encrypted comm unit, "the hangar bay doors are opening now. You're cleared to land."  
"Thanks, hun," Hera sweetly replied.  
Kanan cleared his throat awkwardly. "Um… everyone else is here."  
"Oh... See you all soon, then." Hera quickly hung up.  
Sabine bit her tongue to keep from laughing. Ezra and Zeb did not.

_So far, so good,_ Sabine thought. Hera would sneak past Imperial security in a few minutes- she'd soon be arriving on the rebel fleet's pride and joy: a captured Imperial shipping freighter. It was loaded with a false cargo of casino machines, strategically arranged to conceal the real cargo within- Hera's ship, the _Ghost._

Once Hera made it past Imperial air patrols, the rebels would hide her "Imperial" freighter- and the _Ghost_\- within the Good Omens' private hangar bay. Kanan would impersonate Grutch, and turn down any Imperial investigation into the recent chaos; then he'd close the Good Omens for the next two days while he "investigated" the events himself. The casino would function as the rebels' base of operations for the next eighteen hours; the attached hangar bay would allow them to make a hasty escape when they needed to.

_So far, so good…_ Sabine mused. _So far…_  
But once Obi-Wan and Padmé arrived, and Vader sensed their presence…  
Now, that would be an entirely different case….


	10. Complications

**Author's Note:**

_A special thank you to the notification squad out there- when I posted Chapter 8, about forty people immediately clicked on it. You guys rock!_

* * *

***** DAY BEFORE EMPIRE DAY: LATE AFTERNOON *****

The afternoon had passed so quickly, Sabine had barely had time to sigh in relief. Now she did. The teenager smiled at the pure luxury of the action.  
For once, everything had gone according to plan. The captured Imperial shipping freighter- piloted by Hera- was now touching down in the _Good Omens'_ hangar bay. Sabine stood on her toes slightly, impatient to see the woman who was practically her foster mom.

There was a quiet _clunk _as the freighter's landing gear hit the durasteel. Steam billowed around the base of the _Infiltrator _as its boarding ramp lowered, and then there was Hera, in her flight suit, smiling broadly at the rebels waiting to greet her.

Sabine bounded forward, arms wide. Hera opened her arms as well; her pale green head-tails swayed with the motion.  
"Hi," Sabine murmured once she'd joyfully crashed into the twi'lek. Hera kissed her forehead softly.  
"I missed you too, sweetie." Hera replied in her most maternal voice. A loud _clank_ cut her off.

"Get back on the ship, you rustbucket!" Ezra's voice echoed through the largely empty hangar bay. An (admittedly rusty) orange droid rudely twerped and chimed back.  
"Chopper..." Hera called sternly. "Your job is to guard the ship."  
Chopper rolled back toward the _Infiltrator,_ whistling piteously all the way.  
"Better luck next time, buddy," Sabine said as the stout little droid passed her. Chopper seemed to grumble.

"Right, then. Gather 'round." Hera briskly declared. She checked her chronometer. "It's about four-thirty PM, local time. The sun won't set for a couple more hours, so we don't need to head out until seven." The twi'lek sternly held everyone's gaze. "And that's seven PM _exactly, _because once Widow and the General-" that meant Padme and Obi-Wan, "-arrive, it's only a matter of time before Vader finds us."  
"So we leave at seven, plant the charges, and meet back here by ten." Kanan reaffirmed. He set a hand on Hera's shoulder as she stepped off the boarding ramp. "Don't worry. Widow and the General won't land until eleven. We have more than enough time."  
Hera nodded, but her face was still tight, tense.

"So, what do you need help unloading?" Sabine broke in. She hoped her question could lighten the mood somewhat. Normally, lightening the mood was Ezra's job. But the Jedi Padawan seemed preoccupied… perhaps the Dark Side was strong on Coruscant, the home of Emperor Palpatine and Darth Vader.  
Sabine shuddered. For once, she was glad she wasn't Force-sensitive. Sure, it had its perks. But if being a Jedi meant she could constantly sense Vader and Palpatine, as vividly as if the dark figures were breathing down her neck…  
_No, thank you, _Sabine grimly thought.

Sabine broke off her wandering thoughts just as Hera replied to her question.  
"_So, what do you need help unloading?"_  
"Come on up. I'll show you." Hera said, gesturing for her crew to board the _Infiltrator._

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Sabine plopped down on the crate she'd been carrying. She arched her aching back. Getting their ship (the _Ghost_) out of its spot in the _Infiltrator's _cargo bay was no small project. As bizarre as it sounded, the rebels had to move dozens of broken casino machines first.

Sabine brushed a droplet of sweat off her forehead. The casino machines had been Hera's "cover cargo:" what she had declared to Imperial customs. But the machines also served a much greater purpose. Hidden within them were dozens upon dozens of cloaking devices- by placing the _Ghost_ in the center of the _Infiltrator's_ cargo bay, and then stacking the casino machines around the former ship_,_ Hera had been able to smuggle the _Ghost _onto Coruscant.  
Obi-Wan had warned them that they'd need to make a hasty escape after attacking Vader. The illegally modified _Ghost_ could provide that… the large, clunky _Infiltrator _could not.

Sabine sighed. The cloaking-device-casino-machines had probably saved their future selves. But that didn't mean she'd _enjoyed _moving the past- she counted quickly; eighteen- eighteen machines out of the _Infiltrator's _cargo bay so they could get to the _Ghost._

A loud, boyish whoop echoed through the hangar bay.  
"Ezra," Sabine groaned, rubbing her aching temples.  
"Last machine- and then the _Ghost_ is outta here!" Ezra crowed. Sabine saw him and Zeb push the tall, battered slot machine out of the _Infiltrator's _cargo bay. That made her perk up.

* * *

The next two hours passed in a blur. Hera and Chopper carefully brought the _Ghost _out of the _Infiltrator's _cargo bay, setting the former ship in the center of the cargo bay. Then- just in case they were ambushed- the rebels built a sketchy barricade out of the broken casino machines. This was where Ezra had really gotten creative, using the Force to stack the rectangular slot machines into ramparts and parapets.

Meanwhile, Sabine did something a bit more useful. With Chopper's help (she felt bad for the droid, he had so little to do), Sabine found the few machines they actually _needed. _Seven of the hollowed-out slot machines were marked with a large "x" in spray paint. (Of course, spray paint that could only be revealed under a special blacklight- she wasn't stupid.)

The first of these hollowed out machines held their required disguises: old cloaks that hid their faces, extra fake IDs, some commandeered stormtrooper armor, and a second, back-up recreation of Padme's funeral outfit.  
The second machine held four extra cloaking devices- one for Padme, Obi-Wan, Hera and Chopper. The specialized cloaking devices would allow them to enact Ghost Protocol. (Kanan had smuggled the other four cloaking devices onto Coruscant in pieces of jewelry- a trick Obi-Wan had suggested, inspired by Naboo's handmaidens.)  
The third hollowed-out machine held the disassembled blasters, charges, detonators, and lightsabers needed for the last phase of their plan.  
The other four machines encased four human-sized medcapsules. Two medcapsules were placed on the _Ghost _in case of an emergency. The other two were reserved for the next phase of their plan.

The aforementioned phase had begun just thirty minutes ago: Kanan had climbed into one of the medcapusles- one of the two that had been preloaded with a facial transformation program. It was the same basic program that Obi-Wan had used to impersonate a bounty hunter, Rako Hardeen, during the Clone Wars. Only in this case, Kanan would be impersonating a certain casino owner.

The owner of the _Good Omens _casino, Grutch Mergur, had been knocked out cold by Sabine and Kanan earlier. Ninety minutes after that incident, two "stormtroopers" unceremoniously pulled Grutch out of the closet he'd been trapped in, only to shove him into a medcapsule. Despite Grutch's… colorful… protests, the medcapsule was sealed, sedating Grutch moments later.

Kanan climbed into the adjoining medcapsule, and ten minutes later, the facial transformation program was complete. Grutch was kept sedated in the medcapsule, for convenience's sake- but Kanan climbed out of his medcapsule, and Sabine's jaw dropped.  
Kanan's features were an exact replica of Grutch's. Admittedly, Kanan was a taller, leaner version of Grutch- but to an untrained eye, the new "Grutch" was as good as the real thing.

After throwing on some glitzy clothes and downright garish jewelry, Kanan headed down to the casino's front entrance. He dismissed the stormtroopers who had arrived- and a couple of hefty bribes later, even the corrupt Imperial detectives agreed to let "Grutch" investigate the casino heist himself.

Ten minutes in the medcapsule later, Kanan was looking like his old self again. Sabine smiled in relief. And, best of all, it was only six-thirty PM- which meant they had time to eat before sneaking out to plant the charges. With nothing but food on her mind, Sabine strolled into the empty casino lobby.  
_As tacky as Grutch's taste is, _Sabine reflected, munching on some snacks found near the cocktail bar, _at least he knows how to feed his customers._

* * *

***** DAY BEFORE EMPIRE DAY: NIGHT ***  
**  
Obi-Wan resisted the urge to pace restlessly through the shuttle- mostly because there was no room to do so.  
_Where are they?_  
It was ten-thirty PM, Coruscant time, and the _Ghost _crew had given no word as to the success- or failure- of the latest phase of their mission.

Obi-Wan was still in transit, trapped on a commercial shuttle headed to Coruscant- as was the former Senator Padme Amidala.  
_If the _Ghost _crew has been captured by Vader…  
_Obi-Wan shuddered. Who knew what the _Ghost _crew might have revealed while being tortured by the Sith Lord?

If the _Ghost_ crew truly had been captured, Obi-Wan knew he was as good as dead the second he set foot on Coruscant. And Padme…  
_Oh, Padme…_  
Lord Vader's unsuspecting wife.

Vader wouldn't kill her- of that much, Obi-Wan was certain. But at the very least, Padme would be Vader's prisoner for the remainder of her life. At the very worst…  
Obi-Wan shuddered. Given Vader's reputation for torture; his secret, necromantic experiments; and his disturbingly powerful ability to read minds… perhaps even permanently alter them…  
Obi-Wan didn't want to know what would lie in store for Padme, if worst came to worst.

Which brought his thoughts full circle: had the _Ghost _crew truly been captured by Vader?

The rebels' plan was simple enough: leave the _Good Omens _at seven PM. Arrive at the Imperial warehouse by eight. Using the prototype cloaking devices (and stormtrooper armor, for good measure), plant explosive charges on the AT-ATs stored inside. Finish installing the explosives by nine. Be back at the _Good Omens_ by ten.

And, most importantly, send an encoded transmission to Obi-Wan by ten o'clock PM- if there was no transmission, Obi-Wan would have to assume the _Ghost _crew had been captured by the Imperials. And that meant the second Obi-Wan and Padme arrived on Coruscant, they'd turn around and get as far away from it as they could- or risk being captured by Vader as well.

Obi-Wan glanced at his chronometer.  
_Ten thirty-one…  
Ten thirty-two…  
Ten thrity-seven…  
Ten-forty…_  
That was it then. His gut sank, heavy as lead.

Padme sat silently beside him. She gave no expression of disappointment, but Obi-Wan could sense her nearly screaming inside. It would have been comical, in a dark sense, had it not been a reaction to the death of all they'd hung their hopes on.

_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP-_  
Obi-Wan jolted upright in his seat, as if he'd just been struck by lightning. His comlink-_  
My comlink! It's my comlink that's ringing-_  
In a distinctly un-Jedi-like, clumsy manner, Obi-Wan fumbled for his palm-sized communicator. Padme's hand darted into his cloak pocket; she swiftly found the offending item and handed it to Obi-Wan. He sent her a tense, but grateful, smile.

"This is the General," Obi-Wan answered softly. He raised the device to his lips, choosing to be cautious and leave all imagery turned off. This call was to be audio only, and to take less than sixty seconds- any longer than that, and they risked being traced.  
"General," Kanan's voice replied.  
_Oh, thank the Force!_ Obi-Wan felt like cheering, even laughing aloud in relief- or mild hysteria.  
"You know who it is," Ezra's voice chimed in.  
"We have fifty seconds," Obi-Wan cautioned them. Padme leaned towards him, trying to restrain her obvious investment in this call.

"The mission was…" Kanan paused. Obi-Wan's heart skipped a beat. Padme stopped breathing altogether.  
Obi-Wan's mouth was dry, making it difficult to speak. "Forty-three seconds," he whispered roughly, keeping a careful eye on his chronometer.  
"Mission was partially successful." Kanan concluded.  
Padme pressed her hands over her mouth, visibly slumping against her seat as the relief flooded through her.

Obi-Wan squeezed her hand softly, but kept his attention on Kanan. "Partially successful?" The Jedi Master asked.  
"Vader showed up." Kanan bluntly stated.  
Padme gasped, her wide eyes reflecting the horror Obi-Wan felt.  
"Thirty seconds. Speak quickly." Obi-Wan crisply replied, hoping no one could hear his voice shaking.

"No hostages taken." Kanan swiftly informed them.  
_Good, _Obi-Wan wilted slightly with the knowledge. _No one Vader can torture for information._  
"I had trouble when I landed on Coruscant." Kanan continued, "Tightened security measures. My fake ID didn't cut it, so I had to make a run for it. It got reported to Vader as potential rebel activity."  
"Twenty seconds," Obi-Wan warned him, praying the other Jedi would have time to fully tell his story.  
"At eight o'clock we arrived at the warehouse in stolen stormtrooper armor. But Vader had tightened security measures even further after he realized a Jedi- me- escaped an Imperial spaceport that afternoon."  
"Fifteen secon-"  
Kanan cut him off quickly. "We managed to plant about twenty charges- half of those were decoys- before the Imps realized we were imposters. Their new armor has updated ID tags. Sabine's disguise won't work tomorrow."

Obi-Wan and Padme exchanged a glance, their hearts sinking at the double blow. Mentally, Obi-Wan broke down Kanan's swift explanation.

Firstly- "_We managed to plant about twenty charges- half of those were decoys…"  
_The rebels had planned to place fifty various ion charges and explosives on the AT-ATs in the Imperial warehouse. Tomorrow those AT-ATs would march in the Empire Day parade... and Sabine would detonate the minor explosives. The blast radius was small enough that only Imperial stormtroopers would be harmed- but it would send Vader running to the blast sight: Avenue One. At which point, Obi-Wan would lure Vader through the side streets and alleyways, where Padme and Sabine would be waiting….

The "decoys" mentioned were real explosives- but they were large, clunky charges that the stormtroopers would easily spot and remove. Hopefully, this would blind them to the real, more subtly constructed explosives the rebels would also be placing…

"_Twenty charges- half of those were decoys…" _  
Ten charges- out of the fifty explosives the rebels had hoped to plant, only ten real charges were successfully placed on the AT-ATs. _  
Force help us… what if the Imperials find all of them before the parade tomorrow?_

As for the line, "_Sabine's disguise won't work tomorrow"_: Sabine was supposed to be on a rooftop with her sniper rifle tomorrow. For Force's sakes, if she wasn't wearing stormtrooper armor, how in the blazes was she going to go unnoticed by the _real _stormtroopers marching in that parade tomorrow?

All these thoughts flew through Obi-Wan's mind in an instant. He snapped to attention, as he realized Kanan was hastily continuing his debriefing:  
"The Imps recognized us at roughly eight twenty PM," Kanan tersely whispered, "but we didn't realize that until Vader arrived at eight thirty. Sabine blew up all our extra charges at once, which let us escape Vader... but we barely got away. Our base-" he meant the _Good Omens,_ "is still undiscovered. Use caution when approaching."  
"Noted," Obi-Wan said. As much as he wanted to press Kanan for every detail, he knew they were out of time. "You know the phrase," Obi-Wan said cryptically.  
_May the Force be with you._  
"And you know it as well, Master," Kanan replied.  
_And may the Force be with you, as well, Master Kenobi…_  
Obi-Wan cut the transmission with less than half a second to spare.

He slumped back against his plastoid seat, exhaling slowly. He ran a hand across his weary eyes.  
_I haven't even gotten to Coruscant, and Vader's already tightened security… and now he has his eye out for Jedi…_  
_And, quite possibly, for me in particular. Anak-  
__**Vader. **__Vader.  
Vader always knew how to hold a grudge._

"It's worth the risk." Padme whispered quietly from beside him.  
Still unable to speak, Obi-Wan merely nodded.  
They sat together in silence for some time.  
She stirred, and Obi-Wan knew she wanted to speak to him.  
"I won't let him take me alive." Padme murmured, her voice raw. Obi-Wan looked to her, and saw the tears pooling in her brown eyes. Softly, he reached over and embraced her.  
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." Obi-Wan murmured. He gently rubbed her back as she shuddered.  
She stayed there for a moment, her head resting limply on his shoulder. When she sat up, she was composed.

"I need you to promise me," she said quietly, matter of factly, "that if Sabine misses, and you have a second chance, you'll take it. Even if it's not a clean shot."  
He shifted uncomfortably. After a long moment, he replied, "I promise."  
"And if Sabine misses, and you don't have a chance to take down Vader," Padme continued, "please do not hesitate to shoot me."  
Obi-Wan froze, eyes wide in shock.  
"I will _not,_" she whispered, voice trembling, eyes blazing with fire, "_not ever in my life _become the consort of my husband's murderer."  
When he found his voice, Obi-Wan replied, "I promise, Padme. I will do everything in my power to stop Vader from taking you captive if we fail." He held her gaze intently. Padme searched his blue eyes, looking for the truth behind that promise.

Satisfied, she sat back in her seat.  
"Thank you," she whispered quietly. "I'll ask Sabine the same thing, once I see her again."

Obi-Wan nodded, but his mind was hardly at rest. For a moment, a long, torturous moment, he considered telling her what had truly happened to Anakin. Or more accurately, _warning_ her about what had truly happened.  
_But…  
No,_ he decided, _no. Better not to burden her with the knowledge. Better to let her find comfort in the idea that Anakin died a hero… And in the case that Vader __**does**_ _take her prisoner, it's better to let Padme believe that Vader is a liar. That Vader, if and when he tells her his identity, is simply using Anakin's name to try and lure her into his bed…  
She would be better off that way._  
His conscience only somewhat satisfied, Obi-Wan set his head back against the seat, hoping to rest for some slim moment before landing on Coruscant…  
...and a split second later, his eyes jerked open at the loudspeaker announcement.

"_All passengers, we have entered the atmosphere. Please prepare to collect your personal items, as we will be landing shortly." _

Obi-Wan shook his head. They'd been so wrapped up in their conversation with Kanan, they hadn't realized they'd come out of hyperspace.

Too soon, the shuttle landed. Obi-Wan stood, and Padme gripped his hand tightly.  
"_Thank you for flying on Imperial Starlines. Please be mindful of increased security measures in observance of the holiday, and have a wonderful Empire Day."_  
He and Padme exchanged a glance.  
A wonderful Empire Day.  
Right.


	11. Empire Day

**Author's Note:**

_I hope you all enjoy this extra long chapter. This one's dedicated to RyuuShadow, who's left so many kind and thoughtful reviews._

_Have a happy Empire Day..._**  
**

* * *

***** EMPIRE DAY. *****

Padmé stood her ground, trembling in the chill air. It had all passed in a blur.

First, their arrival in the spaceport. Her heart violently throbbing, she'd handed over her false ID to a stormtrooper. She'd expertly answered questions on her new name, date of birth, and purpose for visiting. She'd thought she might pass out as the trooper slowly evaluated her ID, double and triple-checking the information with the official Imperial database. And then- _mother of moons, _it was a miracle!- she was cleared for entry.

She'd lingered near a tapcafe in the spaceport, waiting for Obi-Wan. Her anxiety skyrocketed, pulse pounding, sweat pooling in her palms, as Obi-Wan was subjected to the same scrutiny by the stormtrooper. And then… she'd audibly sighed in relief. He was cleared for entry, too._  
Thank the gods, thank the Force..._

And then came their second, equally nerve-wracking trip. Their slow, cautious approach to the _Good Omens_ casino. The brief, very brief, call to Kanan making sure that the casino was still safe. The terror of entering the dark building; Obi-Wan did not have his lightsaber, and Padmé carried no weapons. An Imperial ambush would have killed them instantly.

But incredibly, no ambush came. And the _Ghost _crew was there to greet them.

To say the crew was "scuffed up" after their encounter with Vader was an understatement: Sabine had suffered third degree burns from blowing up the extra charges at close range; Zeb's fur was singed black from blaster bolts that flew far too close for comfort; Hera's arm was broken in three different places, from when Vader used the Force to hurl metal shipping crates into her right side. Kanan and Ezra were intact- relatively- but shaken.

"Kanan and I took on Vader so the others could escape." Ezra had explained. The blood drained from the teen boy's face, all traces of his good humor gone. "I slipped up during the duel. I fell flat on my back, and Vader almost took off my leg. If Sabine hadn't blown up the extra charges right then…" Ezra shuddered. "Well… good news is, Vader only took off a couple of my toes." The padawan tried to smile, but it only showed the strain that he was under. That they were _all_ under.

By the time the _Ghost _crew finished explaining their mission, it was half past midnight. There hadn't even been time, it seemed, to take a breath before Padmé was swept away by Hera and Sabine.

The incident with Vader had set them back by thirty minutes. In the grand scheme of things, it didn't sound like much. After all, the Empire Day parade didn't start until nine AM. But the rebels would have to leave the _Good Omens _by one AM if they wanted to get into position in time. It wasn't because the parade's location (Avenue One) was particularly far- the _Good Omens _wasn't three megablocks away. Under ideal circumstances, the rebels could have covered that distance in less than an hour by airspeeder.

But these weren't ideal circumstances. Far from it. Because of the Imperial holiday- and the tightened security measures that came with it- all airspeeder traffic was restricted, and made available to only the most loyal and prestigious citizens. And even worse, tonight there was a curfew in effect. Beginning at midnight, citizens could only leave their homes if they carried express written permission from the Emperor or Lord Vader himself.

Any unauthorized trespassers would be shot on sight.

The rebels had a long night ahead of them. They'd have to evade the armed stormtrooper patrols that roamed Coruscant's streets. Thanks to Sabine and her Imperial background, the rebels knew exactly where each patrol would be, and when.  
Theoretically.

The Imperial troops swept through each block like a well-oiled machine: in precise, deadly, _predictable _movements. If the rebels were very careful- _very _careful- and very patient, they could avoid the patrols. But because of the restricticted air and landspeeder traffic, they would have to head out on foot.  
_Thank the gods for Ghost Protocol… _If Mon Mothma hadn't given them those cloaking devices, Padmé wouldn't have dared to sneak through the dark alleys.

At twelve-thirty AM, the rebels rushed through the _Good Omens_, preparing to leave at one AM as planned. As Hera hastily straightened Padmé's funeral gown, scrubbing off the dirt from the spaceport and tacking loose seams, the three Jedi quickly reassembled their lightsabers. Certain recognizable features- the gleaming metal hilts, the beveled handguards- had been separated from the other components. Hera had hidden the pieces throughout the _Ghost's _many smuggling compartments, praying they wouldn't be found if she was boarded by Imperials. Now, with the clock ticking, the Jedi were beginning to wish they hadn't been so cautious.

Padmé quickly freshened up, only to find Sabine waiting for her just outside the refresher. The younger woman bore a basket of flowers. At Padmé's quizzical look, Sabine flushed somewhat awkwardly.  
"Your body double, Sabé, wore these too. When she and Obi-Wan forged your funeral, I mean." Sabine quickly explained. She raised the flower basket slightly. "I thought I'd help you'd put them in since you didn't see what it looked like and- well, I figured you wouldn't want to see a hologram of yourself in a casket."  
Padmé nodded gratefully. Although the reminder of her "death" stung, at least someone was being frank with her.

Sabine quickly unpinned Padmé's hair from the messy knot at the back of her head. The curls spilled over the widow's shoulders, and Sabine deftly wove the white blossoms through the former's hair.

A lump rose in Padmé's throat as she finally recognized the Ellia flowers. They were native to Naboo- and these were real ones, from the look of it. The rebels had spared no expense when it came to the widow's ghostly attire.

She took a deep breath. "Sabine, I… I'm sorry to ask you to do this, but it's something very important to me." Padmé softly began. She tried to keep the tremor out of her voice.  
For a brief instant, Sabine froze. Then the teenager hastily continued to weave flowers through Padmé's hair.  
"Obi-Wan told me," Sabine said thickly, not meeting her eyes. "If I can't shoot Vader, you want me to shoot you. That's it, isn't it?" The teenager shook her head. "After all that talk about fighting, you're just going to give up."  
"Give up?" Padmé echoed, suddenly defensive.  
"Yeah. Give up." Sabine snapped. "We'd all do everything we could to rescue you if something happened. But you're not going to give us a chance."  
"I'm not going to give _Vader_ a second chance to hurt you." Padmé gently corrected the younger girl. "He's killed too many people already. I don't want anyone else to die for me."

Sabine still wouldn't meet her eyes.  
"_Sabine,"_ Padmé firmly continued. She took the younger girl by the shoulders. "I couldn't protect my son." Padmé's grip tightened. "Please, for the love of the gods, at least let me protect you."  
Abruptly, Sabine flung her arms around Padmé.  
"Don't die," Sabine murmured through her crushing grip.  
"You, too," Padmé softly replied.  
Swiping her eyes, Sabine pulled away just as abruptly, muttering something about checking the sights on her sniper rifle.

And then it was one AM. The cloaking devices were handed out. The slow, treacherous walk to Avenue One began.

The stormtrooper patrols were _everywhere-_ their plastoid boots smacking the duracrete, their glowrods set to a blinding brightness. Several times, a trooper shined his glowrod directly on the invisible rebels, causing everyone to freeze, hearts hammering… until the Imperial moved on.

The trek was arduous to say the least. The invisible rebels tiptoed through the pitch-black alleys, not daring to speak, trusting Obi-Wan to guide them through the silent city by memory. As they were unable to see one another, they walked in a slow procession, one hand resting on the shoulder of the person in front of them. Several times, the chain was broken when one person walked too slowly; everyone froze in a panic until the lost rebel found their way back to the group.

The sun was rising by the time they arrived at Avenue One. Imperials were already swarming through the wide streets. Automated holocams, representing various news channels on the holonet, hovered overhead. Stormtroopers marched in clean formation along the sides of the long avenue, alert for any rebel threats.

The rebels quickly made their way down the avenue, staying in the dead center to avoid the stormtroopers along the sides. By six AM, they silently parted ways. Sabine and Zeb snuck over to a flat rooftop in Subblock One, where Sabine would set up her sniper rifle, and Zeb would stand guard. Padmé didn't know where the others were headed- she'd been told the bare minimum of information, as Obi-Wan was worried Vader might read her mind and discover the rebels plans….

Padmé shuddered at the thought. To place herself in danger was one matter. Placing her newfound friends in danger was something she wasn't willing to risk.

She felt a familiar hand take hers, and she knew Obi-Wan wanted to lead her to the alley in Subblock Three. The alley where she would confront Darth Vader.  
She squeezed Obi-Wan's hand tightly, and let him lead her there.

And now, Padmé stood her ground, trembling in the chill air. She'd abandoned her dark, ratty cloak, hiding it in one of the empty crates that littered the alleyway. But her cloaking device was still hidden beneath the flowing sleeves of her funeral gown, and it kept her invisible- safe, even- for the time being.

She shivered. The sun may have come up, but the glittering city had yet to be warmed by it. A sharp wind nipped at her skin, and Padmé wished she hadn't been buried in such a thin silk gown.

_What time is it?  
_She couldn't tell; she had no chronometer. Obi-Wan had left her here, quietly promising to return for her once Sabine had taken the shot. A blaster bolt that would kill Vader- or, if everything went terribly wrong, a blaster bolt that would have to kill her instead.

Would that be so terrible? A swift, clean blaster bolt ending her heroics, sending her back to her family…. Back to Anakin and Jinn, wherever their souls rested….  
_Don't think like that, _Padmé admonished herself. _What would Anakin say? _  
A small smile grew upon her lips. Oh, she could easily imagine the profanity-filled tirade Anakin would go on if he knew she was attempting something this reckless.

_I'm sorry, sweetie… Hopefully you aren't rolling in your grave right now. You deserve to have some peace, after everything… Do that for me, alright, Anakin? Please try to. It's not like I can have much peace, given where I am right now.  
You'll just have to be happy enough for the both of us, my love…._

Her legs were growing numb. Her teeth were chattering, and Padmé had a hunch that her lips were turning blue. But she waited. She stood there, waiting… waiting for Obi-Wan…  
Waiting for Darth Vader.

* * *

Sabine laid flat atop the rooftop, just west of Avenue One. Through the scope of her sniper rifle, she observed the twisting eastern alleyways of Subblock Three. That was her mark, alright- that empty courtyard. The small "courtyard" had obviously not been planned by any architect; it was a flat expanse of duracrete boxed in by an abandoned factory on its south side, the backend of a bridal department on its north side, and some old retaining walls on the east and west ends whose purpose had long been forgotten. The only entrance to the courtyard was through a narrow alleyway on the west end- that was where Obi-Wan would be running through. As for the Jedi's escape…  
_Knowing the Jedi Order's flair for theatrics? _She mentally sighed. _I'd bet fifty credits Kenobi's going to leap over the retaining wall on the east end. Hand it to the Jedi to make an escape plan that involves jumping at least four meters straight up into the air… and then over a meter-thick wall._

Sabine made the final adjustment to her scope, focusing the crosshairs on the center of the courtyard- she knew Padmé would do everything in her power to keep Vader in that spot, once the Sith Lord arrived.  
"Target acquired," she mumbled as she locked the rifle's position, knowing Zeb heard her even though he didn't reply.

The Lasat was still using the cloaking device, as he couldn't fit into stormtrooper armor to disguise himself. Technically, Sabine could have worn her cloaking device, as well. But she'd taken a calculated risk: if a real Imperial saw a sniper rifle sitting abandoned on a rooftop, they'd know something was off. But if an Imperial saw a "stormtrooper"- Sabine Wren- beside the rifle, they'd assume she was part of the Empire Day security measures.  
_Hopefully…._

After last night's fiasco, it was clear that up close, her stolen armor was good as nothing. Without the updated ID codes given to the stormtroopers for Empire Day, Sabine's disguise was worthless. Up close, her outdated ID code would give her away in a heartbeat, but from a distance... all any trooper would see was another mask in the crowd.  
_Theoretically._

Sabine shifted slightly. Lying on her stomach in plastoid armor was hardly comfy.  
_Speaking of which…_  
She pulled on the equally uncomfortable helmet. She'd justified taking it off to adjust the scope, but now it was too much of a risk.

She glanced at her chronometer. Six-thirty AM. Two and a half hours until the parade began…  
If she hadn't been so terrified, she might have gotten bored.

But as it was, she simply stared through her scope, watching Obi-Wan appear in the distant courtyard… watching him plant the small bombs at a blind corner in the alleyway…

Sabine had created those four small charges specifically for Obi-Wan.  
"_If these bombs were to place Vader in mortal peril," Obi-Wan had argued, "he'd sense the danger and turn back, instead of following me through the alley and into the courtyard. But if the charges are just strong enough to slow Vader down- _without _killing him- he'll most likely ignore the threat and continue to chase me."_  
Sabine had to admit, it was a real stroke of genius on the Jedi's part.  
"_Why even bother planting these if they're not going to kill Vader?" Sabine had asked.  
_"_Because I need to slow him down." Obi-Wan replied. "He'll be right behind me when I run into the courtyard. I need to delay him, even by a few seconds, so that I can escape the courtyard before Vader arrives. And once Vader _does _arrive…"  
_"_You'll be gone, and Padmé will be waiting for him." Sabine nodded. "Not bad, Master Jedi."  
And then I'll take my shot…._

Her hands tightened around the sniper rifle. The clock was ticking… and somehow, two and a half hours didn't seem like enough time in the world….

* * *

***** EMPIRE DAY: 9 AM. *****

Obi-Wan Kenobi stood near Avenue One. He felt the duracrete beneath his boots shudder as a mechanical foot slammed atop the road. Although Obi-Wan could not yet see the AT-ATs approaching, he could certainly hear them- and feel the ground tremble beneath their distant feet.

One last time, he mentally reviewed everyone's positions.

Hera was one subblock south of them- she was waiting in an open shopping center, of all places. When the time came for them to make their escape, Hera would signal her droid Chopper. Chopper, locking onto the homing beacon in Hera's comlink, would fly the _Ghost _to her. Hera would hop in, and fly the _Ghost _herself the last subblock. The dicey rescue of her crew would require a human pilot.

Padmé was waiting in the courtyard in Subblock Three. A hot twinge of guilt panged Obi-Wan's gut, but he shoved it down.  
_Too late now for second thoughts…._

Sabine and Zeb were in position on the rooftop west of Avenue One. Sabine's sniper rifle was charged and ready.  
Ezra and Kanan were lurking in a storefront farther down the Avenue, cloaking devices turned on. Like Obi-Wan, they were simply waiting for the chaos to ensue- a chaos that, Force permitting, would lure Vader out of the Imperial Palace.

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to fiddle with his own cloaking device. It was turned on, and the invisible Jedi wanted nothing more than to rip it off and get this whole blasted mission over with. He'd waited long enough. _  
Ten years… ten years of this nightmare. Ten years of Vader haunting my every waking moment.  
Please, sweet Force- one way or another, just let this end._

The ground was not just shuddering, but shaking now. The din of the AT-ATs' metal footsteps echoed across Coruscant's steel skyscrapers. Obi-Wan almost clapped his hands over his ears, his temples pounding at the thunderous sound.  
_Thud… Thud… THUD… THUD!..._

Obi-Wan dared to stare out into the avenue. His jaw dropped. The towering machines were so tall, he was forced to crane his neck to even look above their "knees." Had he not been a Jedi Master, his own knees would have gone weak. _  
The sort of carnage these things could produce… And if they were put in Vader's hands…_  
He swallowed tightly. It was now or never.

The AT-ATs edged nearer… Obi-Wan leaned forward in anticipation, sweat pooling in his palms… _  
Steady, now… Steady… just a few more steps, Sabine, don't press the detonator yet!_

Just as the shadow of the first AT-AT fell across him, the machine's neck exploded in a glorious fireball.

The AT-AT's heavy head was hurled forward from the force of the explosion; stormtroopers screamed as the burning metal dove toward them. An ear-grating _crunnnnncchhh_ echoed through the avenue as the hunk of steel skidded across the street.

Obi-Wan thought the explosion was over, but no, Sabine had arranged the light show with her usual dramatic flair. Green and magenta sparks suddenly shot up from the decapitated AT-AT's body. The sparks lept high into the air, and a moment later, Obi-Wan realized these were _firecrackers._ Two intertwined trails of colorful sparks leapt into the air; with a thunderous crack, they burst apart into a shower of red lights. Red lights that formed the shape of the signature Rebel Alliance starbird.

Deciding this was the moment to make his entrance, Obi-Wan turned off his cloaking device. The Jedi leapt high into the air, soaring above the astonished stormtroopers. He was halfway to the ground before the first Imperials started firing.

His lightsaber was barely more than a blue whirl of light as he spun, deflecting the blaster bolts directly back at the stormtroopers. The Imperials attempted to rush him; they were interrupted by the timely arrival of Kanan and Ezra.

The troops fell back, but only momentarily. Within thirty seconds they had regrouped, moving to encircle the Jedi. There were hundreds of stormtroopers, and their sheer numbers might have overwhelmed the Jedi under different circumstances. But for once, the odds were on the Jedi's side.

One more AT-AT exploded, the metal head bursting apart from the body, the former piece sailing straight toward the circle of stormtroopers. The Jedi leapt out of the way in time. Many stormtroopers were not so lucky.

The pattern was repeated, a second AT-AT, then a third, exploding each time the troopers began to regroup. Each time, the explosion was accompanied by red fireworks forming the Rebel Alliance's official symbol.  
_If this doesn't catch Vader's attention, I don't know what will._

Obi-Wan didn't know how long he fought there, back-to-back with Kanan and Ezra. What he did know was that sweat was soaking his brow, his muscles burned under the exertion, and there were so many fallen stormtroopers that he struggled not to stumble on the bodies.

Suddenly, the stormtroopers peeled back to the edges of the road, leaving the center of the avenue completely empty, save for the Jedi. Obi-Wan spun around- and suddenly, he realized why the troops had retreated.

Darth Vader had arrived.  
Obi-Wan turned on his heel and ran for his life.

* * *

_Kenobi!_ Vader's mind snarled. His metal legs pounded against the duracrete avenues, his harsh breathing increasing in tempo. The Sith Lord's heavy lightsaber was clenched in his fist, the blood-red blade dying to be ignited, to plunge itself into the Jedi's pounding heart.

_You. She is dead because of you. _Vader knew he could never wash his hands of his beloved Padmé's death. And yet, it was Kenobi who had dragged her from her home, who forced her onto the volcanic world of Mustafar, to make pleas on the Jedi's behalf. Had she never been there, in the dark fortress…

And now Kenobi had the audacity to use her memory as his shield; to somehow drag a ghost, an echo of her presence onto Coruscant with him. For Padmé's presence was close, close, ever closer as Vader tore through the alleyways like a wraith.

His limbs trembled, the dark side racing through him like a drug. The Sith found his surroundings melting away into a red haze. Only fractured pieces of Kenobi were in view- the edge of the Jedi's ragged cloak as he dove around a corner, the sound of his leather boots skidding against the crumbling stone streets.

Vader whirled around one blind corner, then a second, a third, terror slicing through him like a knife as he realized that Kenobi was out of sight- the Sith's one chance to avenge his loved one was slipping through his fingers-

A terrible crash sounded dead ahead, just out of sight in the twisting back alleys. A wave of heat rolled across Vader as he realized, too late, that Kenobi had led him on. This detonation had been pre-mediated by the Jedi.

A cloud of dirt and fire rose from the corner just ahead, blowing back over Vader. The Dark Lord summoned the fury surging up within him. He twisted the deadly energy into a Force shield, guarding himself from the knife-sharp shrapnel cutting toward him- and every second felt a lifetime long as Vader tracked Kenobi's presence, sensing the Jedi's growing distance, the coward's retreat!

It had been mere moments since the explosion's first blast when Vader hastily released his shield, charging around the corner and through the flames. He felt the heat sear his skin, felt his leather suit reduced to ash in places, but he paid no head. Kenobi was escaping!

The orange fire that danced across his vision disappeared; Vader emerged into the clear cool air of Coruscant and-

He could not breathe. Despite the many failsafes in his life support suit, for a heartbeat, the cold air felt as distant as the stars.

His lips moved soundlessly. Yet the vocabulator in his suit had never cared what volume Vader spoke at, and it picked up the silent, wondrous word, forcing his synthesized voice to say it aloud: "_Padmé?"_

* * *

Sabine's heart stopped. Through her scope, she saw the explosion in the alleyway. She saw Obi-Wan rush through the courtyard, leaping over the far wall to escape. She saw Padmé suddenly appear as the widow deactivated her cloaking device.  
_This is it.  
I can do this… I can do this._

The Dark Lord of the Sith stormed out of the explosion, rushing into the courtyard- and came to sudden halt, despite the deadly fire raging a meter behind him. It was like someone had flicked the "off" switch in Vader's suit.  
_Perfect._

Sabine's hands tightened around the sniper rifle, and she moved the weapon in miniscule, practiced motions as she centered Vader in the scope's crosshairs.

"Hey, you!" A harsh, filtered voice called from behind her.  
Sabine jerked upright- and in slow motion, she saw three _real _stormtroopers emerge on the adjoining rooftop to her left. They jumped down onto her level.  
"You don't have authorization to-" The lead trooper never finished his sentence- an invisible being named Zeb Orellios had just shoved him off the rooftop.

Sabine was about to turn back to her rifle, to quickly take the shot, when- her stomach flipped and her mouth ran dry- she realized the other stormtroopers hadn't been distracted by their commander's death. The two remaining troops had their blasters aimed squarely at Sabine's chest.  
And the stormtroopers fired in unison.

Left with no choice, Sabine dove to the side; she screamed as two blaster bolts landed squarely in her calf. She drew a small hold-out blaster from her sleeve, firing back even as Zeb flung another stormtrooper off the roof.

Two carefully placed shots downed the stormtrooper, but three more troops arrived, no doubt belated reinforcements. Their firefight must have drawn the attention of the stormtroopers down at Avenue One. Glancing over the edge of the rooftop, Sabine saw five more stormtroopers head into the adjoining building, no doubt attempting to pin the rebels in a rooftop crossfire.  
_Sithspit! _

"Zeb, cover me!" Sabine yelled over the blaster fire. Without waiting to see what he would do, Sabine dove onto her stomach, scrambling to reach the sniper rifle.

* * *

Padmé was _here-_ here, before him! Vader trembled. Time ceased to exist. The flames at his back no longer burned.

His eyes, from behind his suit's red lenses, greedily drank in the sight of his wife. She wore a blue gown-_  
Her funeral dress,_ Vader realized in horror. The flowing dress pooled around her ankles like water; her long, silken curls fell freely over her shoulders. Her hair was laced with flowers, white blossoms, from an Ellia tree…

His eyes stung; he felt the hot tears roll down his cheeks. Flowers from an Ellia tree, the Nubian tree she had promised to bury Skywalker beneath, if he died before her in the Clone Wars… How many times had Vader wished he was buried there, instead of her!

"Padmé," he choked out, extending a gloved hand towards her. He took one faltering step, his knees threatening to give out beneath him…  
"_Do not touch me."_  
Vader froze; Padmé's sharp voice instantly freezing him in place. She was shaking, fists balled in her dress, her brown eyes welling with tears…

"I'm sorry," Vader managed to say, struggling to form a coherent thought. She was here- _here, _truly here! _  
And you are the reason she was gone. _

"Padmé, I"m sorry," He began again, a wave of sorrow threatening to sweep him off his feet. A silent sob escaped him. His suit would not process such sounds; Padmé could not hear him weeping beneath the demonic mask. "I'm sorry."  
Padmé was silent. She stared in disbelief, eyes flashing. "You're _sorry?_" She repeated. Coldly. A frigid tone Vader had never before heard her direct at him.  
"For everything." he whispered brokenly. Every piece of him was screaming to rush forward, to hold her, comfort her-

"I said, _don't move._" She nearly growled, her voice rising. Vader realized he had stepped forward, his body moving of its own accord. Padmé tensed, preparing to step back-  
"_Wait!" _He cried, stretching out his hand. _  
Don't leave me!_

Padmé stretched out her own hand, as if that could keep him away. "No, _stay back! Stay-" _She began to back away.  
A surge of adrenaline flooded through Vader, his stomach flipped as he realized she meant to leave. Calling on the Force to give him speed, Vader lunged for her; his body became light as a shadow, a wraith leaping to her side in less than a second. Time slowed as he reached for her. Padmé's eyes widened in shock, his towering visage was bare inches away.

Vader felt himself possessed by terror, a fear unlike any other as he reached for her, waiting for her ghost to vanish as his hands closed around her shoulders-  
And she stayed.

Once again, Vader could not breathe. She was there, _substantial, human, in his arms at last. _  
"Don't go," he begged, his grasp tightening. Padmé gaped up at him. Her jaw was slack, brown eyes wide, too stunned, it seemed, to speak.

"Padmé, I love you, I've never stopped loving you." Vader began, the words suddenly spilling out of him. "And I've been searching for you, every day, ever since- since-" He felt himself trembling. For a moment he was scared he would collapse, taking her with him. "It's my fault," he wept, "my fault that you- that you were killed. I can't… I can't tell you how sorry I am. I could never, _never,_ atone for this." Desperately, one of his gloved hands cupped her cheek, his thumb gliding across her soft skin. "My love, I don't know how you are here, how it's even possible. But I swear to you, I will do anything you ask, _anything. _Just tell me what to do… please, Padmé, tell me how to save you, how to keep you here with me," Vader begged her unashamedly. His eyes searched his wife's, pleading with her.

Padmé stretched one small, trembling hand out towards him. "Anakin?" She whispered. He could feel her trembling in his grasp.  
"I'm here," he answered. Gently, he brushed the back of his hand across her cheek, his heart aching with the familiar gesture.

Padmé's hand tentatively reached toward the side of his face. Vader bent down, obliging her, and was shocked to feel her finger tips touch his skin- not his _mask,_ but the bare skin of his jaw.

Suddenly, Vader realized nearly half of his mask was missing; it had been destroyed in the explosion. It was no wonder he could barely breathe.

Padmé suddenly pulled her hand back, as if she'd been burned. Tears welled in her eyes as she covered her mouth with one hand, muffling her sobs.  
"Anakin," she wept, rushing fully into his arms. Vader held her tightly, one hand buried in her curls, the other firmly wrapped around her back, stopping her from collapsing onto the cold streets.  
"I'm here," he repeated, relief flooding through him. He didn't understand how- he didn't _care_ how- Padmé was here, all that mattered was that she _was. _"Please, my love, tell me that you'll stay." Vader pleaded, needing to hear the words.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, the silent sobs still wracking her body.

* * *

Obi-Wan sprinted around the subblock, lungs burning, as he turned on his cloaking device. It had been a close call, but he'd escaped the courtyard; now he dashed around the subblock corner, following a long path that returned to Avenue One without passing through the courtyard.

Force permitting, Obi-Wan would arrive at Avenue One, then retrace his steps through the alleyways in Subblock Three, and re-enter the courtyard. By that point, Vader would be dead, and Padmé would be waiting for the Jedi Master to lead her to the rendezvous.

Obi-Wan knew that this was a long, tiresome route to take to the courtyard. But the Jedi feared that if he'd lingered just outside the courtyard, Vader would have sensed his presence… which would've turned the Sith Lord's attention away from Padmé.

Speaking of which- the Jedi could still sense the Sith Lord's presence. Unless the Force deceived him, Vader was still very much alive. Obi-Wan prayed that nothing had gone wrong.

As if his prayers had held the opposite effect, his emergency comlink chimed. Panting, Obi-Wan skidded to a stop.  
"_GENERAL! GENERAL, GET-"_  
"Zeb?!" Obi-Wan gasped in surprise.  
"Stormtroopers swarming the rooftop! Need reinforcements-"  
"I'm coming," Obi-Wan assured him as he shut off the comlink, sprinting at breakneck speeds toward the rooftop west of Avenue One…

* * *

"Zeb, cover me!" Sabine yelled over the blaster fire. Without waiting to see what he would do, Sabine dove onto her stomach, scrambling to reach her sniper rifle. She skidded to a halt, stared through the scope, realized it had been completely misaligned during the firefight-

Heart thundering, she swung the rifle to the right, searching for the courtyard Vader was in. The images rushed past her scope, building after building after building until-  
_What? _

There was the courtyard, and there was Vader, but Padmé was in his arms. Snapping out of her surprise, Sabine realized this had to be Padmé's last ditch effort to distract the Sith Lord; Sabine lined up Vader in the crosshairs of her scope, finger slowly adding pressure to the trigger-  
Sabine saw Padmé's face, streaked with tears, as the widow sobbed in Vader's arms.  
And for a split second, Sabine hesitated. It wasn't a clean shot. Her stomach sunk.  
_I have to kill Padmé, too._

"Rebel _scum!_"  
Sabine cried out as an armored hand gripped her short hair, yanking her to her feet. She spun around, attempting to swing her elbow into her attacker's face, but it was no use. A second pair of hands roughly grabbed her free arm, twisting it behind her. She bit back a gasp of pain, digging her teeth into her bottom lip. The two stormtroopers forced her to turn around.

Sabine's gaped. Two squadrons of stormtroopers, blasters raised, stood in a line on the rooftop. Zeb was being forced onto his knees, blood gushing down his temple; a nearby stormtrooper pressed a blaster muzzle to the Lasat's temple. The Imperial's free hand held the Rebel Alliance's pride and joy: one of their prototype cloaking devices.  
"Cute gimmick," the trooper said, pocketing the device. "Lord Vader will be very interested in the technology behind this."  
Trying to ignore her pulse pounding in her throat, she quickly invented, "I wouldn't do that if I were you. If those devices are brought out of this pre-assigned area, they'll explode."  
"Sure they will," the stormtrooper flatly replied, locking a pair of binders around Zeb's thick arms.

As another stormtrooper marched up to Sabine, binders in hand, the rebel was shoved to her knees. She twisted as she fell, craning her neck and _just _managing to see over the ledge of the rooftop. Her heart sank. It wasn't good.  
Kanan and Ezra, hands raised in surrender, were surrounded by endless platoons of stormtroopers. As Sabine watched, the Jedi were shoved onto their knees, and stormtroopers clamped binders around their wrists.

"In the name of the Galactic Empire," the stormtrooper beside Sabine announced, "you're under arrest."  
_And Vader's still alive…._

* * *

_No! _Padmé's mind screamed. _NO! _  
Her vision swam and blurred, tears obscuring the sight before her. The sight of Vader, his powerful hands wrapped around her shoulders, caging her in. The sight of his demonic mask, half of it blown away… and the hideous visage beneath it! A human face, stark white, burned- no, _charred, _charred black- in places, scars dragging across his face as if he'd been mauled by some beast. And his _eyes- _sickly yellow, sunken things, deep and wrinkled purple shadows set beneath them.

She knew this face. Or rather, she knew what this face had been ten years ago.

As if possessed, her hand lifted itself toward the side of his face. Of Vader's… _Anakin's…_ face. Her fingertips glanced across his rough skin, damp from his tears- and she snatched her hand back abruptly. She'd felt it: his scar from the Clone Wars, the one that ran beside his right eye. It was nearly invisible, buried beneath dark burns and deeper scars… but it was there.

That's when it hit her. This man- this disfigured murderer- was _her husband. Her Anakin. _She pressed a hand over her mouth, desperately trying to muffle her sobs.  
_He lied. Obi-Wan lied to me.  
__**Anakin is alive.**_

On instinct, not realizing what she'd done until she'd done it, she rushed into Anakin's arms. He clung to her, stroking her hair, her back, refusing to let go.  
"I'm here," he assured her, holding her tighter, so tight she could barely breathe. "Please my love, tell me that you'll stay."  
Her heart pounded. Anakin, her Anakin, was here, _alive,_ and-  
Horror flooded through her, and her knees went weak.  
_Sabine! Sabine is going to kill him, oh gods- what do I do?!  
Why hasn't she killed him yet?  
__**What do I do?!**_ _  
Force help me, I don't know what I'm supposed to do!_

"Anakin- I- I-" she stammered, her voice raw. Suddenly her legs gave way beneath her and she collapsed; Vader dove to his knees, catching her before she hit the shrapnel filled street.

She buried her face in his chest, arms wrapped tight around his waist as she wept for her husband. _  
You know what you're supposed to do, _a quiet, rational voice whispered in her mind. Padmé sobbed harder, not wanting to listen to it, but unable to shut it out.  
_You __**know **__what you're supposed to do. You know what Obi-Wan __**ordered**_ _you to do if Sabine couldn't take the shot.  
You know the outcome that the rebels are risking their life for.  
Darth Vader's death._  
She felt, more vividly than ever before, the cold hilt of the dagger concealed beneath her sleeve. Obi-Wan's contingency plan.

She clung to Anakin as the sobs wracked her body. She tightened her arms around his waist, and with slow, trembling hands, removed the dagger from its hidden scabbard.

Anakin simply held her, his gloved hands stroking her hair, her back, cupping her neck and wrapping around her waist.

Padmé felt her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. _  
I'm sorry, Anakin, I'm sorry, I love you, I love you so much, I love you I love you __**I love you**__-  
_Shuddering, not even able to keep the dagger in her hand steady, she set the tip of the knife against the small of his back.  
_I'm sorry, my love, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I love you-  
I love you-  
I love you…._

"Oh, I can't, I can't," she wailed, the dagger falling from her limp hand.

* * *

Obi-Wan, still invisible, barreled into Avenue One, nearly knocking over a pair of stormtroopers as he arrived. Trying not to gasp for air, he scanned the rooftops. He couldn't hear blaster fire anymore, which was a bad sign.

_That's it- that's the rooftop where Sabine should be,_ he realized, staring straight at it. But neither Sabine nor Zeb was there. Not even a stormtrooper was present on the rooftop.

His stomach sank.  
_I'm too late. _

Whirling around, Obi-Wan scanned the quiet avenue, searching for Ezra and Kanan. Neither Jedi was in sight. Only the stormtroopers, quietly treated their wounded, remained.  
_No… no, they can't all be gone, _his mind cried out. But hadn't he thought the same thing about the Jedi, after Order 66?

Obi-Wan, still unseen thanks to his cloaking device, quietly made his way down the center of the avenue. He scanned the rooftops, the storefronts, the alleyways, everywhere the rebels might have been hiding. He quickened his pace at the sound of a landspeeder activating.  
_Could it be? _

It was! There, half hidden behind a protruding storefront, was an Imperial prison transport. Obi-Wan moved as quickly as he dared, given the stormtroopers swarming the avenue; then the Jedi broke into a sprint as he saw the slight figure of Sabine Wren shoved into the back of the dark speeder. The doors slammed shut behind her as the speeder pulled out. Obi-Wan sprinted after the vehicle. It sped away, leaving the Jedi in the dust.

Not one to give up, Obi-Wan called upon the Force to enhance his speed, and for a few precious seconds, Obi-Wan gained ground. He breathed raggedly, watching the prison transport accelerate-

Thinking quickly, Obi-Wan reached into his belt and pulled out a tracking device. He threw it; it flew through the air and landed squarely on the back of the vehicle.

The Jedi Master dropped to his knees, exhausted.

When he thought he'd be able to speak, he pulled out his comlink.  
"Hera," he murmured, throat raw.  
"General. Ready for extraction?" Hera crisply replied.  
"No," Obi-Wan said heavily. "Your crew is alive, but they were captured by stormtroopers. And I can sense that Vader survived the assassination attempt."  
"No," Hera whispered.  
"I'm so sorry," The Jedi Master hoarsely replied. And he meant it. "Stay where you are. I'll meet you at your location and we'll return to the _Good Omens._"  
"General- is there… are we going to attempt a rescue, sir?" Hera asked thickly, clearly trying to remain professional.  
"We'll do everything we can," Obi-Wan assured her. "But that may mean leaving Coruscant, and returning with reinforcements."  
"Understood, sir," Hera whispered tightly.  
"May the Force be with you," Obi-Wan said, ending the call.

The Jedi Master fought against his exhaustion, and climbed to his feet. _  
Vader is alive. _  
And what of Padmé?

All of his instincts told him that if Vader was alive, then Padmé would not have escaped.  
_But I will not abandon her._

Pressing aside his weariness, Obi-Wan began the long run back to the courtyard in Subblock Three.

* * *

Out of the corner of his eye, Vader saw something made of metal fall out of Padmé's small hand, but he paid no head. His full attention was turned to the woman in his arms.  
"I can't..." she wept against his chest.

Vader fought the panic rising within him. "Padmé, you _can-_ you _can_ stay here with me; I'll help you, beloved. You don't need to rely on your own powers to appear, not anymore. Just tell me what to do-"

With a dull, splitting ache in her chest, Padmé realized what Anakin meant. He'd misunderstood her cries- of course he had; he didn't know she'd nearly murdered him.  
_He thinks I'm a ghost._  
Swallowing tightly, she played into the illusion. The lie. "I can't stay, Anakin, not here, not now-" She said in a small voice, barely meeting his eyes.  
"I will do _anything-_" he began to protest, tightening his hold on her.  
She jolted upright at the last word._  
Anything- __**Anything.**_  
She had an idea.

"Tonight." She interrupted Vader, her wide eyes lifting to meet his.  
Vader immediately fell silent, committing each word she spoke to memory.  
Padmé softly pushed away from him, gesturing to his belt. "Do you have a passkey to your castle- the one here on Coruscant?" She asked, her voice suddenly strong, impassioned.  
"Here," Vader swiftly handed it to her. Padmé took it, softly squeezing his fingertips as she pulled her hand away.  
"Meet me there tonight at midnight- midnight _exactly._ I can't stay any longer than that." Padmé warned him.  
"I swear to you, I will be there." Vader vowed. His eyes roamed over her figure, desperately seeking to memorize her form before she disappeared.  
"Come alone." She murmured, her parting words to him.

Gently, Padmé pulled his hands away from her, and this time Vader didn't protest. He simply watched her, burning her ghostly visage into his mind as she turned away. Her blue gown dragged across the shrapnel on the ground, pulling it along with her as she slowly glided farther down the alley. She bent over briefly, and Vader saw her pick up what she had dropped earlier-  
_A dagger? _Vader wondered, as Padmé concealed it beneath her sleeve. His wife continued on her path, removing a worn black cloak from a nearby crate. She wrapped it around herself, then turned to him.  
"Midnight, my lord." She reminded him. "Alone."

Vader nodded. Padmé pulled up the hood of her dark cloak, draping herself in shadow. Then she abruptly turned to the right, into the darkened opening of an abandoned workshop. She stepped into the shadows, fading from sight… Vader stretched out his senses in the Force, tracing her presence. She was still there, in the mouth of the dark storefront, but… where? He could no longer see her, nor could he hear her footsteps, not even the whisper of her funeral gown dragging across the duracrete.  
Vader felt, but didn't see or hear, her presence approach him… coming closer… closer still…

He stretched a hand towards where he felt her presence to be- and flinched. A ghostly hand, unable to be seen, brushed across his own. But he _felt_ Padmé squeeze his hand softly as her presence passed by him. And then her touch faded, and her presence retreated, and Vader was alone in the scorched alley. The only sound was the flames still flickering along the duracrete, back where the bombs had nearly killed him.  
Padmé, he was convinced, had saved him.

Trembling, Vader forced himself to rise from his knees. There was much he did not understand- why Padmé had donned her cloak and dagger before leaving him, or even why a ghost would need a key- but he brushed those thoughts aside. He could think of explanations easily enough: the cloak and dagger were symbols of espionage, she might have shown it to him as a warning, a precursor of sorts, of what she was going to ask of him. As for the key, it was obvious she didn't need it to physically enter his palace; but perhaps apparitions needed a sign of trust, or permission, to enter a home- or at least, the home of a powerful Force-wielder.

_Midnight. _With a jolt, Vader realized how little time he had. He had to deal with the rebels and Jedi, _and_ report to his master before midnight. And Vader would likely have to deal with his master's punishment, as well, before he was dismissed. Without another thought, Vader ran out of the alley, forgetting about his damaged mask, forgetting about the shrapnel that had pierced his knees when he'd fallen to the ground. Padmé was waiting for him… and if he was not there for her, she would not be able to stay.

He might never see her again….

* * *

Tears streamed down Padmé's face as she sprinted out of the alleyway, dodging stormtroopers she barely registered seeing as she ran down the main avenue, trusting the cloaking device to keep her presence concealed.  
_Obi-Wan lied.  
He lied.  
He lied to me.  
He lied to me __**about Anakin.**_

It was a long time before Padmé realized she didn't know where she was running to. She paused, panting, staring at her surroundings. She'd headed south, thank the gods, away from the Imperial Palace.

_What now?_  
She was stranded. She had no idea where the rebels' rendezvous point was; Obi-Wan hadn't told her- he'd been worried Vader would read her mind and figure out their plan. She'd been counting on Obi-Wan to return for her in the courtyard once Vader was dead, but…

Padmé muffled a small, broken sob, sinking to the ground. She pressed her head between her knees, trying to breathe… trying to think.

* * *

Obi-Wan ignored the stitch in his side, skidding to a stop in the alley leading to the courtyard. He leaned against the rough duracrete wall, trying to draw air into his taxed lungs. He couldn't sense Padmé or Vader in the courtyard ahead. Still, the Jedi Master refused to leave until he saw, with his own eyes, that the courtyard was empty.

Obi-Wan walked through every inch of the courtyard twice over, knowing that no one else was there, but unwilling to relinquish this last bit of hope.

At last, the Jedi forced himself to stop. He had other responsibilities, the most urgent of which was the rebel pilot, Hera Syndulla, who was waiting for him several subblocks away. But that didn't stem the flow of hot, bitter tears rolling down Obi-Wan's cheeks.

He had failed- he had failed the _Ghost _crew, the Rebel Alliance, even the galaxy at large. But what stung more than anything was that he had failed his oldest friend… again.

_Too little, too late… as always._

* * *

Slowly and deliberately, Padmé calmed her racing heart. She could cry all she liked later. But unless she could think quickly- think quickly _right now_\- before long, she'd be crying in a cell reserved for rebel operatives. Or even worse- she'd be locked away in some secret chamber in Vader's… in Anakin's… castle on Coruscant, with no one but her husband for company….  
Presumably forever.

She shuddered. _  
I'm not going to think about that. Not right now. Not right now.  
Later.  
When it's safe, and I can claw Obi-Wan's eyes out._

Padmé laughed a bit hysterically at that last thought. Then she firmly pinched herself.  
_No time for tears. _  
She took a deep, steadying breath, smoothing out her hair, despite the ache in her heart.

_Midnight._ She'd bought herself time, but she only had until midnight to get herself offworld, get to the rebel rendezvous, or get to Vader's castle. Carefully, Padmé weighed the options.

First, the obvious choice: getting offworld.  
_But where would I go?_  
A small, truthful voice answered: _Nowhere Vader's won't find me. Nowhere he wouldn't be willing to destroy, if it would bring me out of hiding._  
Padmé shuddered. Vader would- Anakin _had already-_ practically burnt down half the cosmos trying to save her. And now he had an Empire at his disposal to help him do it.  
_No,_ she decided. _Running from him now would be beyond stupid…. _Stupid both in regards to her own fate, and the fate of the galaxy.

She could, of course, look for the rebel rendezvous. That was her second option._  
Try finding a hidden meeting place that could be anywhere on this entire planet…  
_She didn't have a comlink, nor did she know any of the rebels' comm numbers. It wasn't like she could call and ask where the rendezvous point was. And searching for the rendezvous on foot would mean dodging stormtroopers- and risking another encounter with Vader.  
She shivered in her thin, silken dress, but she knew it wasn't because of the cold.

Even if she managed to avoid Anakin and his stormtroopers… what then? Her heart sank as she thought it through.  
_They've probably left without me._  
She only knew two things about the rebels' escape plan. The rendezvous was somewhere on Coruscant that _wasn't _the Good Omens- they'd let her know they wouldn't be returning once they left for the parade. And, once Vader was dead, the rebels would leave Coruscant _immediately._

She fought down the hot tears welling in her eyes. Obi-Wan had promised to return for her once Vader was dead. He'd promised to rescue her, to bring her to the rendezvous, but…  
_But Sabine never took the shot._

Padmé's stomach dropped. _  
What if she's dead? What if Obi-Wan left me to try and save her? What if everyone's dea-_  
She buried her face in her hands.

Regardless of the reason why… she wouldn't be finding the rebels' rendezvous point any time soon.

Which left her one option. Vader's castle.  
It was his words- "I will do _anything"_\- that had inspired her plan. Anakin would do anything she asked; even if she asked him to kill the Emperor.  
_Would he?_

If she promised to stay with him- and made him _swear _to never try and learn how she'd first appeared- would he kill the Emperor? Would he hand control over to the Rebel Alliance?

Padmé took a deep breath. It was an impossible question to ask if she was thinking about Darth Vader. It was, however, something she could ask of Anakin Skywalker. If she thought this through slowly, and _carefully, _she might actually have a chance to make things right... to a degree. To what degree, she didn't know.  
_But I can do __**something…**_ _I know I can._  
If she didn't, she'd go crazy.

Padmé didn't know how long she sat there in the cold road, unseen, simply thinking.  
_He wouldn't want to abandon the Empire._  
She knew that, given their conversation on Mustafar. Padmé shivered, blocking out that memory, turning to the reason she'd thought of it in the first place. He wouldn't want to abandon the Empire- but would he allow her to rule at his side? Would he give her true power within the government?  
She felt certain he would.

And what then? Could she right things from the inside out, create an empire in name, but a republic in reality?  
Anakin would help her, if he thought that was what she wanted. If he thought that would make her stay. She felt sure of that.

But how long could that arrangement last? What if Anakin realized she wasn't a ghost, that she'd lied to him, used him, even?  
_I'm not using him,_ her mind automatically responded. _I love him. I love him enough that I stupidly, __**stupidly**_ _saved his life…._  
But would he see it that way?

She hesitated. Should she… should she tell him the truth? Everything? Her miscarriage, her coma, her brief stint with the Rebel Allia-  
With a jolt, Padmé realized her mistake.  
_Miscarriage?_  
Obi-Wan had told her that her unborn son, Jinn, hadn't survived. Her lips twisted. _Obi-Wan_ had told her that.  
Obi-Wan did not have a spectacular track record of honesty.

What if…  
_No. _  
Even if… even if what Obi-Wan had told her wasn't true... even if she'd given birth to a healthy son or daughter… her child was safer if she believed that he or she- or even _they_\- were dead. That way, the Emperor couldn't find them.

Her heart sunk.  
_The Emperor._  
Oh gods, she'd forgotten about him.

Palpatine would search for her child, if he knew Padmé was alive.

Vader would never let the Emperor take her child away.

Was this it, then? The deciding factor? The safety of her child?

Tears began to flow anew as she thought of her baby. Her child would be ten years old now, her little Jinn or Kiné. She had no memories of what her baby looked like. She didn't have any memory of giving birth, all she could remember was-_  
_"_Save my baby, please, just save him, we're wasting time…."_  
_Obi-Wan rushed over to soothe her-_  
And then... nothing. All she could picture was blank, white, fuzzy nothingness. And then blackness, a different type of memory- a blurred memory of her nearly endless coma.

_Could Obi-Wan have…? _Her stomach twisted.  
_Could he have sunk so low?_  
Had Obi-Wan altered her memories, used some sort of Jedi trick to make her forget the birth of her child?

She didn't know. Padmé wasn't sure she _wanted _to know. But if Obi-Wan had erased or obscured her memories, it was possible another Force-user would be able to uncover them.

_Now… are you going to go backpacking around the galaxy until Emperor Palpatine captures you, tortures you, and pulls the fate of your child from your memories?_

_Or are you going to do what you can to prevent that? To protect Jinn, or Kiné?_

Her feet started moving before she realized she'd made a decision. It took her a moment, but Padmé realized where she was walking as the silhouette of Vader's castle slowly grew larger in the skyline...


	12. Secrets, Part 1

**Author's Note:**

_I hope you all are healthy, safe, and not going crazy during the quarantine! My thoughts are with you guys._

_Oh, and just a heads up: there's a somewhat graphic depiction of injury towards the end of this chapter._

_May the Force be with you all, and stay safe!_

* * *

_This,_ Padme thought, not for the first time that morning, _is an awful plan._  
_S_he craned her neck, unable to tear her eyes away from the dark tower looming in the distance: Vader's castle.  
_An awful, **horrible** plan,_ she amended. Padme shivered, and hugged her cloak closer to her body.

But what were the alternatives?

There were none.

That thought plagued her as she approached the Sith Lord's home.

Subblock after subblock, she trudged through the frigid morning, her surroundings blurring into a gray haze as her mind drifted.  
_I'm just going to walk into Darth Vader's palace… the private fortress of my husband, Darth Vader, a Sith Lord…._

Padme knew she shouldn't be so inattentive to her surroudnings. Dimly, she was aware of the stormtrooper patrols passing by. But her cloaking device was still in place, and so far it had kept her as unseen and safe as…  
Well, as a ghost.  
Or a dead woman.  
She just prayed the cloaking device had a long battery life.

With that thought in mind, Padme quickened her pace. The last thing she wanted to do was suddenly become visible to the stormtroopers swarming the area, especially with the Imperial curfew in place; she'd be shot on sight or even-

_Wait._ She blinked. Rubbed a hand across her tired eyes. No- this was definitely happening.  
_Great. Just great. How in all the kriffing hells did I lose sight of a castle?_ she huffed. _It's the second tallest building on Coruscant, for gods' sakes!_  
She fought the urge to tear out her hair.

All but shuddering in the chill air, Padme blew on her fingertips, noting with dismay that she was losing feeling in them.  
_Think. Think._  
_You have until midnight. You can find Vader's castle by then._

Slowly, she turned in a circle, meticulously scanning the Coruscanti skyline. Her heart hammered.  
_Lost a castle; I'm the galaxy's biggest idiot, it's official-_  
Her frustration mounting, on the verge of infuriated tears, she completed the turn, and found herself facing her initial direction again.

A hysterical laugh bubbled out of her.  
"There it is," she whispered. She had to look almost straight up to see it, but the skyscraping palace was unquestionably present. Her view of the castle's narrow tower had been blocked by its wide, circular base.

For a moment, pressed her face into her hands. She shut her brown eyes. And breathed… slowly… deeply. This was no time for hysterics, and frankly, she felt like she was starting to lose her grip. She needed to collect herself if she wanted to navigate the imminent encounter with Vader.  
_It's just Anakin,_ she told herself, a lump forming in her throat. _Just Anakin._

Shivering in the wind, she pulled out the passkey he'd given her.  
_Now all I have to do is find the entrance._

* * *

Her legs were cramping. She winced as another spasm rocked her calves. Padme had been crouching in the shadows for roughly two hours. She was starting to think the castle entrance's guard would never change.

As if the universe had finally acknowledged her mental pleas, the pair of stormtroopers made an abrupt about-face. Swiftly and silently, Padme stood up. At least, she tried to. The pins-and-needles sensation in her legs made all her motions rather graceless. It was a miracle she didn't keel over.

As the two stormtroopers left their post and marched alongside the palace walls, Padme made a mad dash for the door. If the new guards arrived at the entrance before she did, there wasn't a chance she would make it inside. Not for another two hours, at least.  
She kept Vader's passkey in hand- her cloaking device made both herself, and the item she held, invisible.

Padme skidded to a halt at the tall, dark entrance.  
_Blast!_  
The old guards weren't out of sight yet. But the new guards could arrive at any moment. Did she risk opening the door now?

She bit the inside of her cheek, knowing that this was no time for indecision.  
_This is only a side entrance,_ she assured herself. _It's not like I'm trying to open the main gates without being noticed._  
She shuddered at the thought- the towering, fortress-like central gate had been guarded by a full twenty stormtroopers, not to mention the four troop patrols roaming the surrounding subblock.

_It's now or never,_ she urged herself. The old guards were leaving; the new guards hadn't arrived; and the roaming stormtrooper patrols wouldn't pass by this spot for another three minutes.

With a surge of adrenaline, Padme swiped Vader's passkey across the lock, rushing blindly inside as the black door split open in the center. She wasn't two steps inside before the door sealed itself behind her with a _hiss._

Padme forced herself to stop and take in her surroundings. Running helter-skelter through one of the most secure buildings on Coruscant wasn't a good plan.

She had arrived in a dim, narrow corridor, so long that she couldn't see the end of it. The walls were black durasteel, slanting inwards near the ceiling, and punctuated every few meters by a slim door- several of which were passkey-protected. The floor was made from some duller form of durasteel, cut into large gray slabs.

Padme squinted, eyes adjusting to the dim light. The only source of illumination came from scant golden glowpanels near her ankles. Now she could see that at the end of the corridor, there was a gleaming silver turbolift; in the corners just above it were-  
She sucked in a breath. Near the ceiling, in the corners just above the turbolift, were two security holocams. Padme cautiously turned around. Behind her, just above the door she'd entered through, were another two holocams.

Thank the gods she'd had the sense to leave her cloaking device on.

A muffled voice sounded outside the door she'd entered through; Padme jumped out of her skin.  
_"-sure it's just a power flux?"_  
_"Positive. Besides, I'm not going in there uninvited to investigate."_  
Padme tensed- even through the thick castle wall, she recognized those filtered voices: stormtroopers. No doubt these were the new guards, standing watch at the side entrance.  
_"But what if-"_  
_"Look, first of all, we didn't see anyone go in. Second of all, this door was barely open for two seconds, and there's no way anyone could get inside that fast. Only Lord Vader's passkey could get you in without going through all the identity scans and redundancies."_  
_"Some rebel could've stolen the key."_  
_"So you're saying that 'some rebel' just walked up and pickpocketed Lord Vader? I'm telling you, there was a power flux and the door opened for a second. That's it."_  
Padme thought she heard the other trooper sigh.  
_"Fine. But if some rebel did get in, you'll be the one explaining it to Lord Vader. And you have to be the one to tell maintenance about that power flux."_  
_"Copy that."_

A wry smile touched her lips as she stepped back.  
_No rebel could've gotten in here, huh?_

Confident that no stormtroopers would be dropping in on her, she turned around, softly padding toward the turbolift. Padme was about to summon the lift- but again, she hesitated.

What if someone was monitoring the holocams in this corridor? And what if they saw turbolift opening "on its own?" A droid might dismiss the odd activity, but could a sentient being dismiss it as a second power flux? Padme doubted it.

She bit her lip, staring up at the holocams. And then something clicked.

Back when she'd been Naboo's senator, she'd been given the privilege of living in the penthouse suite of the 500 Republica-  
Of course, she'd only been allowed to live there because she was representing Naboo... and the landlords wanted to curry favor with the Nubian Chancellor Palpatine. Once Padme had become too ill to serve as senator, she'd promptly been evicted….

Padme mentally shook herself.  
_No need to dwell on that._

Right now, she needed to recall the holocams she'd installed in her old apartment. She'd been uncomfortable knowing the 500 Republica's security guards could see into every room in her apartment- even her bedroom and closet- through the official security holocams. So with the hard-won approval of her Nubian security force, she'd modified the holocams to link to a private security feed: one that wasn't monitored by a sentient being, but instead programmed to alert her (or her security team) whenever someone was detected entering the apartment.

Padme took a close, careful look at the holocams above the turbolift in Vader's castle. A sad smile traced her lips.  
_You've been thinking of me, haven't you, sweetheart?_

Sure enough, these holocams were visibly modified exactly the same way hers had been.  
_Which means…_  
She was willing to take a gamble and say that Anakin- or a droid of his- was the only one monitoring his private fortress here. And if she was willing to take a risk, she'd bet that if Vader saw things in his castle suddenly moving "on their own," he'd attribute it to a certain ghost's presence.

Padme took a deep breath, then summoned the turbolift. Really, she didn't have any other options, aside from standing in the hall until Anakin arrived at midnight- which was hardly practical.

The lift arrived with a soft chime, and she stepped inside.

* * *

Sabine paced through the small, white-walled cell. Ten paces to the right. Then ten paces to the back of the cell, until she hit the durasteel bench- the room's one commodity. Another ten paces to the right, then ten paces to the front of the cell, until she was cut off by the locked door.  
Turn around. Change directions.  
Rinse and repeat.

The young woman raked her fingers through her hair, tightening her grip until sharp pains raced through her scalp. It was almost enough to drown out her panicked thoughts.  
_Where's Hera? Where's Ezra? Where are Kanan, Zeb, and Chopper?_  
_What about Obi-Wan? Zeb thought he was heading towards us, but…_  
_And- oh, **shavit**\- what's Vader done with Padme?_

_Focus,_ she chided herself. _Focus._  
She'd been in this maddening, tiny cell for roughly three hours- and she wished the Imperials would just get this interrogation over with. Before she went insane thinking about her crew, and what awful tortures might be inflicted on them.

Regardless… she wasn't going to tell the Imperials anything. She'd decided that a long time ago. She'd bite her tongue off first.

The air behind her hissed. Sabine snapped around- _and Darth Vader was in the doorway of her cell._ The blood drained from her face.

With one long stride, Vader entered the chamber. The door sealed behind him.

Vader towered over her- she had to crane her neck to look him in the eye. Sabine swallowed tightly as his skeletal mask leered at her.  
"Sabine Wren," he rumbled. The Sith Lord's low tones echoed through the harshly lit cell.  
Sabine forced the tension out of her muscles. "Darth Vader," she answered as confidently as she could. To her pride, her voice didn't shake.

Darth Vader did not react.  
"The two Jedi proved most resistant to standard interrogation methods," Vader began. "Perhaps your pain will convince them to cooperate."

For the first time, Sabine noticed the interrogation droid hovering behind him- and the many needles sticking out from the torture device.

She sharply pinched the inside of her elbow, forcing her thoughts away from Vader's weapon. But her mind just wouldn't shut up.  
_He tortured Ezra. He tortured Kanan._  
_I have to get them out of here._

Vader's gloved hand slammed atop her shoulder, forcing her down onto the bench in the back of the room.

And a plan flashed into Sabine's mind, a panicked, adrenaline-fueled plan. A very stupid plan. One that would throw Obi-Wan under the bus.  
But it would get the rest of them out of prison.  
And if Obi-Wan were here now, Sabine knew he'd tell her to do anything to save herself and her friends.

The black interrogation droid floated toward Sabine, snapping her back to reality.  
"You know," Sabine began, heart pounding, "this is hardly any way to treat your allies."  
Vader held up a hand. The interrogation droid hovered in place, still just inches away from Sabine.  
"You imply that you are willing to cooperate," Vader rumbled. He took a step forward, his cape swirling around him with the motion.  
"I'm saying I already have," Sabine snapped- yes, snapped- at the Dark Lord.

Silently, she prayed that Vader couldn't read her thoughts word-for-word. Because Sabine wasn't lying through her teeth, just… selectively revealing the truth. And that might be just enough to fool Vader and his Sith powers.

"You are stalling," Vader growled, a hand coming to rest on his lightsaber. "And today I have no time for games."  
"I'm sorry," Sabine replied, sarcasm dripping off each word. "I gift-wrapped _Padme Amidala_ for you and-"

Vader's hand shot out; it was wrapped around her throat before she could cry out. Slowly, painstakingly, the Sith Lord lifted her into the air. Sabine clawed at his hand- it didn't help her. But she could feel Vader trembling.  
"Padme is dead." Vader's voice shook. "She is dead!" He shouted, his hand tightening around Sabine's throat.  
"I… kn-know about," Sabine gasped out, "your… e-experiments…."

Vader released her. She crumpled to the ground, coughing and sputtering.  
"Speak quickly," Vader ordered.  
"You've… tried to bring… her back to life," Sabine rasped, rubbing her throat. "Whatever you did this time… worked. I found her wandering around in her funeral dress and brought her to you."  
"You were not there when she appeared to me." Vader rumbled. But a trace of uncertainty had entered the Dark Lord's tone.

"Too many stormtroopers for me to stick around," Sabine truthfully replied. "I would have been shot on sight."  
"You should have handed her over to me directly." Vader accused. He turned, pacing through the cell, fists clenched at his side. "Not left her stranded in some alleyway where Kenobi could have taken her from me!"  
"You were in the Imperial Palace this morning. The Empire's placed a bounty on my head. I couldn't just walk in there and ask to see you," Sabine answered, trying to keep her story straight as Vader kept up the rapid-fire questioning.

"You knew," Vader whirled around, pointing his gloved hand at her. "You knew Kenobi would be there! You planted the bombs, you helped him try to kill me. You used Padme to lure me there!"  
"That doesn't make any sense," Sabine insisted. She knew she was pushing her luck with her attitude, but her sarcasm- and Vader's raging emotions- were distracting the Dark Lord. She wasn't about to give up that advantage. "You didn't even know Padme was going to be there. I didn't use her to lure you anywhere."

Vader growled something in frustration- perhaps a curse, but it was too low for her to hear.  
"Then explain why you were on Coruscant in the first place," Vader continued, "if you were not part of the rebel strike that occured today."  
"I'd planned a robbery," Sabine answered promptly. It wasn't a total lie- she'd broken into the Good Omens casino last night. "I only cooperated with the strike so Kenobi would help me sneak onto Coruscant."  
"And what of last night? I saw you and your rebel crew sabotaging the AT-ATs in the weapons factory."  
"And I did as little damage as possible," Sabine swiftly answered. She tried to ignore the sweat beading on the back of her neck. "Half the bombs I planted were decoys. Those were easily found and removed by your troops, weren't they? And in the end you only lost six AT-ATs out of hundreds."

Again, Sabine wasn't lying- not really. She'd planted both decoy charges and more subtle explosives. She'd done her best to sabotage the machines, but her work had been cut shut by Vader's arrival.

"You were found on a rooftop with a sniper rifle aimed at my location." Vader pressed. But he seemed… almost a little calmer. Almost.  
"I didn't take the shot, did I?" Sabine replied.  
_Not that I didn't try my kriffing hardest._ She quickly suppressed that thought.

Vader silently stared at her, perhaps evaluating her story.  
Sabine pressed the advantage. "I'm tired of being a rebel. I've been looking to get out for a while now, but I can't erase my criminal record. You can do that." She lifted her brown eyes, pleading with him. She knew that wouldn't do any good, but she felt expected to beg for mercy. "I knew Obi-Wan would lure you down that alley. The bombs weren't supposed to kill you, just slow you down so I could shoot you." Sabine took a deep breath. Vader hadn't interrupted her; that was a good sign.  
"Before I got into position," Sabine continued, "I ran into Padme, and recognized her. I told her I was a member of the Rebel Alliance, and that she could trust me to hide her from the Sith." Sabine took a deep breath, thinking through her concocted story before she spoke. "Before I went to the rooftop with my sniper rifle, I brought Padme to the alley. I showed her a place to hide, and told her to stay there while I got us a transport off-world.

"I knew Obi-Wan would be too busy running from you, to notice Padme there. But you would find her." Sabine slowly pushed herself off the floor, coming to a seat on the bench. "Like I said, I practically gift-wrapped her for you. I could have killed you instead, and sold Padme to someone like the Hutts, but I didn't. And I'd like something in return."

Vader was silent for a moment. "You wish for me to erase your criminal record." The Dark Lord slowly said.  
"And the rest of my crew, too," Sabine pressed. "Hera Syndulla, Zeb Orellios, Kana-"  
"I do not pardon Jedi." Vader cut her off.  
"You owe me a favor," Sabine boldly replied. She stood, drawing herself up to her full height. "And I want you to pardon myself and my four crew members. Including the two Jedi."

Vader stared at her. For a seemingly endless time, the only sound was the Dark Lord's labored breathing.

Sabine felt the sweat pooling in her palms. She tried to keep her eyes on Vader's mask; she refused to be the first to look away.  
_That's odd…._  
Something was wrong with Vader's mask. It looked… cracked, or something, in the center. Like the right side of it had been broken off, and hastily reattached.

"You will repeat this story to Amidala," Vader said at last. "She will decide your fate."  
Vader turned on his heel, and with a swirl of his cape, he left her cell.

Sabine pressed her head into her hands as the door slammed shut.  
_So Vader did capture Padme…._  
Sabine shut her eyes and tried to come up with a rescue plan.

* * *

Vader stormed out of Sabine Wren's cell, a cold sweat coating his skin. He pointed to the first Imperial officer he saw.  
"No one else is permitted to interrogate these rebels," Vader barked. "You will see to it personally that my orders are obeyed." There was no mistaking the threat in the Sith Lord's words.  
"Y-yes, my lord," the officer replied, his face sheet white.  
Vader marched on before the officer could see him trembling.

_"I could have killed you instead, and sold Padme to someone like the Hutts…."_  
The young rebel's words still haunted Vader- more than Sabine Wren could possibly know.  
_A lifetime of slavery under the Hutts,_ Vader thought, still shaken._ They would have paid well for a Naboo Queen…._

Vader cursed himself. He had been too stunned by Padme's sudden resurrection to take notice of anything else- he hadn't sensed the danger of the sniper rifle pointed at his back; he wouldn't have sensed the danger when it fired. He knew that if Sabine had chosen to kill him, he could never have reacted in time to save himself… or to save Padme from a lifetime of slavery.

_Insolent girl,_ Vader cursed young Sabine Wren. _How dare she?! The rebel threatens my wife, then demands a pardon for herself and the Jedi!_

He was still trembling- not simply with rage, but with terror.  
_Sold to the Hutts… sold to a thousand other men…_

And Vader had nearly allowed it to happen. He had been blind, just as blind as he had been ten years ago.

A thousand images flashed through his mind's eye: the flames of Mustafar, the black fortress crumpling atop his beloved wife… and her funeral on Naboo.  
_Not again,_ he swore to himself. _Not ever again._

No one else would be permitted to interrogate Sabine Wren and her crew. No one else would learn of Padme's presence.  
Especially not the Emperor.

Darth Sidious would lock Padme in the Imperial Palace, dangling her just out of Vader's reach, using her as a cruel means to control the Sith apprentice. And when Vader failed on his missions, the Emperor would no longer torture Vader with Force lightning- The Emperor would torture Padme instead.

Vader shuddered. No one could learn of Padme's presence.  
_No one._  
He clenched his fists, black hatred still swirling through his mind. He would kill Sabine Wren and her crew- and a hundred thousand other beings- if it meant keeping Padme safe.

_Still…._ Vader slowed his pace, mulling over the encounter. _Perhaps Wren chose her words poorly. She's an idealistic young rebel; she would never sell an innocent woman into slavery. Perhaps Wren only referenced the Hutts to make a point._

_Wren did hand Padme over to me… even if the girl did it poorly._

_Perhaps a pardon is not out of the question. Her Jedi friends could serve as Inquisitors… Wren herself was once a bright student at the Imperial Academy. Perhaps she wishes to return…._

_Yes… Wren was correct. She has more than earned my gratitude. And she is owed a favor…._

But not at the cost of Padme's safety. If Wren and her crew were to tell anyone of Padme's presence… and if word made its way back to the Emperor….

Vader paused. Wren had been holding something back during the interrogation. The girl had a long history of impassioned rebel activity- she hated Vader, hated the Emperor, hated the Empire. She did not want to leave the Rebellion. That was an obvious lie.

Then what was the point of all this? Wren wanted pardons for herself and her crew, that much was obvious. But she had clearly lied about wanting to leave the Rebellion behind. Would she simply return to the Rebel Alliance once Vader released her from her cell?

His instincts still told him there was something more to it than that. Vader cursed quietly. There was something missing from her story, something Vader just couldn't see. He would have to speak to Padme about Sabine Wren's claims.

His heart lifted.  
_Padme…_  
He was going to see her again- tonight, at exactly midnight, like she'd promised him.

And he would find a way to keep her with him.

* * *

Within the turbolift was a neat line of twenty buttons, unlabeled, but presumably each represented a different floor. The top three buttons were set apart from the others, and had a small slit in the durasteel beneath them. Padme held up Vader's passkey to the thin opening. Sure enough, it looked like the slit was built to accept the metal, rectangular key.

After a moment's deliberation, she slipped the passkey into the slit, and pressed the top button- she assumed it would take her to the highest floor. Vader's castle was the second tallest building in this megablock, so placing his personal quarters on the top floor was a no-brainer- after all, an unobstructed view was a rare blessing on Coruscant.

The turbolift's ascent was smooth, but so fast that her stomach dropped. Vader's passkey smoothly slid back out of slit the wall; she claimed it with a fumbling, sweaty hand.

Padme realized she wasn't prepared for the turbolift doors to open. What would she find here? What did she hope to find? Her stomach shifted uneasily. She didn't know. But until midnight, she had unsupervised access to practically anywhere in Darth Vader's castle- and even if she didn't have a way to contact the rebels yet, she was not going to waste this opportunity.

There was that temptation again: to simply gather all the classified data she could, steal a ship, and go running, hoping that she'd find the rebels one way or another. But she pushed that thought out of her mind. Rebel allegiance or not, only an idiot would turn down the chance to have Darth Vader as an ally. Only a very selfish, egotistical idiot would turn down Darth Vader promising to do "anything" for her.  
"Anything" was a very broad term, and she could think of many favors it encompassed. In the end, this was the best way for her to help the rebels.  
If her freedom was the price for that, so be it.  
She just hoped Anakin would be true to his word.

Padme held her breath as the turbolift doors opened. Her heart beat like it was trying to break her ribs, or burst out of her chest.

The first thing she noticed was the view. It was truly gorgeous, even on a gray, cloudy day such as this. Long, transparisteel panels interrupted the plain walls, allowing her to look down on the other skyscrapers that filled the landscape.

And the _sky_…. As if possessed by the open scene, Padme slowly glided towards one of the wide windows. Coruscant's sky had been clogged with airspeeder traffic, and cluttered by metal buildings. But here….

She resisted the urge to press a hand to the glass. Here, atop the towering palace, no skyscrapers interrupted the expanse of the cloudy sky.  
"It's beautiful," she murmured, as if Anakin could hear her. She stared at the open sky for a few moments longer.

_Focus,_ she firmly told herself. With an effort, Padme peeled herself away from the view, turning to examine the room she was in.

To her surprise, it was incredibly plain. The floor was the same gray durasteel as the lower corridor, and the walls were just as black as the castle's exterior. At least this floor was better lit than the corridor she'd first entered- several standard glowpanels ran across this room's ceiling.

Padme stepped towards the center of the largely empty room. There was very little furniture. What little there was had been made from simple gree wood or silver durasteel.  
She brushed her fingers across the back of the gray couch. With a small ache in her chest, she realized Vader's couch was in the same place her couch had been in the 500 Republica.

Padme frowned, scanning the room more critically. With a flash of insight, she recognized the layout of the entire room- the entire floor, in fact. She rushed back to the turbolift, then turned her back to it, pretending she'd just walked out of it for the first time. The first few meters surrounding her were empty; that correlated to the entryway of her old apartment.

She closed her brown eyes, pretending she was really in her old apartment. Moving slowly, trying to envision her old home, she walked forward.  
_Alright… I'm coming out of the turbolift, into the entryway. A few more steps forward… I turn to the right, step forward, and I come right into the living room._  
She opened her eyes. The déjà vu was enough to make her knees weak.

She'd been right about the placement of the couch- it was exactly the right distance away from her, and it was roughly the size and shape of her own couch. But Vader's was much simpler, an unadorned piece made of gray fabric and gree wood.

There were two tables nearby: a small one near the couch's left arm,and a low oval one just in front of the couch- they also roughly matched the size, shape, and placement of her own furniture.

Unnerved, Padme took a moment to sit and collect herself. Slowly, she took in the rest of the room, keeping her old apartment in mind.

There should have been another couch across from her, but Vader had excluded it from the arrangement- perhaps, Padme mused, because a second couch would have blocked the floor-to-ceiling window across from her.

She shifted in her seat, looking to the right. There were no dividing walls on this floor, like there had been in her old suite. But she could clearly pick out the "rooms" here. To her right was a long dining table, with the same number of chairs that she'd once owned, placed where her own dining room had been. To this "dining room's" left was an empty block of space that correlated to where her kitchen ought to have been.

_It's just a coincidence,_ she told herself. _Some droid probably picked out the furniture, following a standard apartment layout. Sith Lords don't take time to pick out sofas._  
That thought didn't quell the gooseflesh crawling up her arms. This was a strange, unnatural floor plan. At least three-quarters of the area was empty. No droid would logically place furniture this way.

She still doubted that Vader- Anakin- would have had time to furnish the place himself.  
_Maybe he threw out what he didn't want,_ she pondered. _Maybe he rearranged what he kept, so it would be out of his way._  
_Maybe then he wanted it to arrange things to be like our home._  
_Maybe… maybe he wanted it to make it like home for me. Obi-Wan warned me; he thought that Vader… Anakin… was still trying to… trying to..._  
_Trying to resurrect me._

She shook her head, wishing she could stop herself from shivering. This wasn't going to do her any good, wondering how much Vader obsessed over her. This was silly.

Padme stood, slowly taking in the areas to her left and behind her. They were completely empty, devoted to expansive windows and unused floor space.  
_Maybe I should try a different floor._

She frowned. The rest of this area was empty, except for…  
There was a small, almost unnoticeable seam in the dark wall across from her- she hurried to it.  
_If this was my old apartment,_ she thought, mind racing, _then this would be…._  
The thought stopped her in her tracks.  
_This is exactly where the keypad to my bedroom door was._

The keypad had been a redundant security measure during the Clone Wars. After a third attempt on Padme's life, her security team had installed an extra lock on her bedroom door. If she engaged the lock, the door could only be opened by entering a lengthy passcode on the keypad.  
And by the gods, she still knew the passcode.

Padme ran her fingers across the subtle seams in the castle wall. They surrounded a small square of metal, one with no place to enter a passcode. She bit her lip thoughtfully.

Then, with a sudden flash of insight, she realized what the obvious solution was. Padme waved Vader's passkey across the smooth surface. A small cry of triumph escaped her as a palm-sized segment of wall slid aside, revealing a keypad beneath it.

Taking a deep breath, Padme entered what she hoped on all the stars was the proper combination. She entered the combination she'd designated for her bedroom lock- the date of her wedding, with the numbers entered in reverse: year, then month, then day. She sent a silent prayer to the Force, then pressed the "enter" key.

With a deep rumble, the floor panel to her left slid aside, revealing a faintly lit spiral staircase, winding down into darkness.

Padme's heart stopped. A secret level within Vader's castle? She took a lone, faltering step toward the staircase... then froze.  
_He's a Sith Lord,_ she cautioned herself._ A Sith Lord's secrets are never the good type._  
But the odd staircase still beckoned to her curiosity.  
A chill dripped down her spine as she recalled Obi-Wan's warning: _Vader's… interest… in you has lingered. It borders on obsession…._  
_Necromantic experiments…_

Did she really want to see whatever Anakin had to hide? Whatever… experiments… he'd conducted? Her stomach twisted at the thought.

But then again… once Anakin realized she knew about his secret stairwell, he would find another way to hide it from her. He'd change the passcode, or install a second series of unbreakable locks, or ban her from this floor entirely.  
_Isn't it better to know what he's hiding?_

And what if whatever Anakin was hiding was dangerous? What if she got herself killed, snooping around where she shouldn't be?  
_You have to stay alive. Not for yourself, but for your child._ Her rational side insisted. _You have to protect Jinn or Kiné from the Emperor._  
That was the reason- part of the reason, at least- she'd come to Vader's castle in the first place.

Besides, she could always ask Vader what the strange staircase was for. If he deflected the question, she would know to avoid that secret floor for good.  
_But what if there's something down there I need to see? What if there are rebel prisoners locked away there?_

_And what if I get myself killed? Then who will protect my child?_ A lump formed in her throat. She knew the answer. But that didn't mean she liked it.

_Obi-Wan would protect them._

As angry as she was with the Jedi Master… angry that Obi-Wan nearly coerced her to nearly Anakin, angry that Obi-Wan might have lied to her about her child's death… she couldn't forget that the Jedi had gone to every length to protect her child, if he or she was truly alive.

And Obi-Wan had done his job well, hadn't he? Neither the Emperor, nor Vader, had found her child yet. Nor had they found Obi-Wan. And the Sith Lords hadn't even realized Padme was still alive.

Padme sighed softly. She'd judged the Jedi Master far too harshly. If Obi-Wan had lied to her about her child's death, it was only to protect him or her.  
_It's what I would have wanted,_ she admitted to herself. _Not what I would have wanted in an ideal galaxy, or in a perfect life. But all I would have wanted for Jinn or Kiné was for them to be safe._

Not for the first time, she pondered the rashness of her decision to head to Vader's castle. Obi-Wan and the Ghost crew could be dead, or in danger- or even searching for her at this very moment- and Padme had run right to the person the rebels had all vowed to kill.  
_Sabine, poor girl… Is she safe? Did she make it offworld? And what about Obi-Wan, Hera, Kanan, Ezra, Zeb… even Chopper…._

What if they were trying to rescue her from Vader's castle at this very moment? Or what if they were dead? Gunned down by stormtroopers, or even killed by Va-

Fury rushed up within the former queen, so suddenly that it almost stunned her. Anakin had done this. Anakin was trying to kill Obi-Wan, Sabine, and every other rebel and Jedi. Anakin had lead Order 66, slaughtering even the younglings; Anakin was the reason her child was in danger; Anakin and his turn to the Dark Side was the reason she almost died, the reason she was comatose for a decade, the reason she didn't know if her child was actually alive or dead-

Breathing heavily, Padme made up her mind. She was going to enter every locked room, every secret stairway, until Anakin arrived; danger be damned. And when Anakin did show up, Padme was going to have a long list of conditions he'd have to satisfy if he truly wanted her back.

Mentally, she ran through the list.  
_The safe release of Obi-Wan Kenobi and the Ghost crew._  
_The safety of her child, if he or she was alive._ Padme frowned, debating that point. Should she tell Anakin her suspicions? Or trust Obi-Wan to continue to hide her child?

Her brief conversation with Anakin on Mustafar, just after his fall to the Dark Side, flashed through her mind.  
_"I'm so sorry Padmé, I never should have left you alone. I won't let him hurt you. Either of you." Anakin's gold, bloodshot eyes drifted down to her stomach, where their child rested.  
__"Anakin… please. You know Obi-Wan, we've both known him for years. He'd never hurt us. He wants to help us- all three of us- if we'll let him." Padmé's brown eyes pleaded with her husband. "You don't have to do this. Come away with me. We can go anywhere you want; we'll run away, just like you've always wanted-"  
__"We don't have to run anymore, Padmé." Anakin said quietly, squeezing her hand. "I know what the Jedi told you- I know what I've told you- about the Sith, but I was wrong. Some of them were evil, but it's not that simple."  
__"Some of them- Anakin," Padmé said, her face sheet white, her lower lip trembling. "Anakin, you know what the Sith are. They're like Darth Maul, and Count Dooku, and what Palpatine asked you to do here-"_

_"I know, I know," He soothed her. His thumb traced soft circles over the back of her hand. "But things can be different now, Padmé. Now's our chance to change all that."_  
She shuddered. The memory still burned vividly: his glowing yellow eyes, the sheer conviction in his gentle tone… and the bodies of the Separatist leaders lying on the floor behind him.

Speaking to Anakin had been like trying to reason with a madman. What if he was the same now? Or even worse than he was before?  
_Ten years ago, he was willing to kill younglings. How much worse could he become?_  
_Why?!_ She silently screamed. _Why, Anakin?!_

Padme was going to demand an answer tonight. More than an answer- repentance.  
_The safe release of Obi-Wan Kenobi and the Ghost crew._  
_The death of the Emperor._  
_And the safety of my child._

She'd made up her mind: she was going to tell him the truth about their child. Not because it was the smartest thing to do. But because if Anakin found out about their child's survival himself- and if Anakin learned she had hidden this from him, because of Obi-Wan-

She felt the blood drain from her face. Padme didn't believe he would take his fury out on her. But anyone and everyone else in the galaxy would suffer. Especially the rebels. Especially the Jedi.  
And especially Obi-Wan.  
And Padme owed Obi-Wan far more than her life. She wasn't going to place him in danger now.

She pulled herself from her musings. She only had until midnight to freely roam Vader's castle. And she would need to discover exactly what state of ruin the galaxy was in, if she wanted to go about fixing it.

Mind made up, Padme started down the stairway. The secret level she'd discovered wasn't going to explore itself.

* * *

Obi-Wan held his head in his hands. Beside him, in the pilot's chair, Hera did the same.

Chopper whistled softly, nuzzling against Hera's leg. Hera looked up with bleary green eyes. Eventually, she summoned the energy to pat his dome.  
"We'll get them back, Chops." She whispered hoarsely. "We won't leave Coruscant until we do."

Obi-Wan stared numbly out the viewport. There was no soothing sea of constellations to greet him. He, Hera, and Chopper were aboard the Ghost, but the ship was still hidden in the Good Omens casino's hangar bay. It had never left that location. The other rebels had been captured before the Ghost could even leave the hangar bay and attempt to rescue them.

The three of them were slumped, exhausted, in the cockpit. Obi-Wan and Hera stared at the small, blinking screen between them. As if by sheer force of will, they could find the resources to rescue the rest of the Ghost crew.

Obi-Wan had activated the tracking device he planted on the prison transport. He and Hera numbly stared at the beacon's location on their map, each refusing to leave until inspiration struck and a rescue plan came to them.

The beacon showed that the prison transport had stopped at a detention block. The highest security detention block on Coruscant. One that held only life-sentence and death row inmates.  
"We could…" Obi-Wan started half-heartedly. He trailed off.  
_What's one Jedi and a pilot going to do against Darth Vader? Not to mention the stormtroopers?_  
_Not to mention the Emperor,** Darth Sidious?**_

Obi-Wan ran a hand over his weary eyes. Not for the first time, he wished Master Yoda had come with them.  
"Hera…" Obi-Wan gingerly began. "The best thing to do may be to leave Coruscant, and return with reinforcements."  
"It might be." She agreed hoarsely. Neither of them moved. Neither of them was willing to leave.

"If… If it is any comfort at all," Obi-Wan continued, "I can sense that Ezra and Kanan are alive."  
_And in pain._ He left that thought unsaid.  
"What about Sabine and Zeb?" Hera whispered.  
"It's more difficult for me to sense them, because they aren't Jedi." Obi-Wan answered. "But I believe that if the others are alive, then Sabine and Zeb are, too."  
Hera nodded. She knew Vader would want to interrogate every member of her crew.

"He's torturing them, isn't he?" Hera asked. Her huge teal eyes held no tears, but an indescribable grief.  
"Yes," Obi-Wan answered softly. He had no comfort he could give her, except for honest answers.

"And Padme?" The twi'lek continued. "Vader's not keeping her in the same place, is he?"  
"No," Obi-Wan replied, his eyes burning. "No, I don't think he is."  
That was the challenge mounted before them- they were trying to plan not one suicidal rescue mission, but two.  
"We'll think of something," Obi-Wan repeated.  
"We will." Hera affirmed.

They stared at that map for a long, long time.


	13. Secrets, Part 2

Steeling herself, Padme started down the spiral staircase. Her thin shoes did little to shield her feet from the cold durasteel beneath them. She was still shivering, she dimly realized, from the cold or from shock or from both.  
She just hoped this staircase led to somewhere warm.

The metal staircase was wound into an uncomfortably tight, steep spiral- and it had no handrails. Padme squinted into the darkness, stepping down with exceeding care, mindful of her long dress pooling around her ankles.

_At least this isn't too high,_ she thought gratefully. Her brown eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, and she realized how short this staircase truly was. It led down into another corridor- and a very small one, from the look of it. The hidden hall was just over two meters high, and barely a meter wide.  
She made it to the bottom of the spiral stairs. Warily, she touched one foot to the shadowed floor, and-  
Padme gasped as she was plunged into complete darkness. She heard a whisper of movement above her; she looked up; her stomach sank. The trapdoor above her had closed.

Frantically, she stumbled up the treacherous stairs. Her small hands pressed against the ceiling; the trapdoor refused to budge.  
_And I have no idea how to open it again._  
She swore beneath her breath.

_Well… nowhere to go but down._  
Cautiously, Padme made her way back down the metal, twisting stairs. She cursed her husband for not installing a railing- she was being forced to navigate the spiral, wide-spaced steps in complete darkness. Her stomach flipped as she leaned unsteadily to the side. Padme stretched her hand out, reaching for a wall so she could balance herself. Her hand brushed against a raised surface- it was some sort of control panel….

With a dull hum, warm, artificial light flooded the locked corridor. She lifted a hand to shield her burning eyes. As she gingerly lowered her hand, she found herself looking at...  
_Wall sconces?_

Two glowing, golden orbs hung on the walls- and they were unquestionably crafted in the style of Naboo. And perhaps it was the warm light, but everything seemed different in this secret section of the castle. Like it was… softer. More luxurious. Reddish floors complemented earthen-toned walls. The holocams gleamed gold instead of silver.

Padme stepped forward, heart leaping. There was a lone door at the end of the hall- and its keypad was in full view. She ran her fingers lightly across each key.  
_Alright, Anakin… let's see how well I know you._

So far, Vader had obviously chosen passcodes that were personal to her.  
_That means this should be easy… theoretically._  
Padme bit her lower lip, running through her memories of the Clone Wars. What were the most important dates, the most important number combinations, to both her and Anakin?

There was at least one likely contender, something only she or Vader would think of. It was the first six digits of the encryption key they'd used when sending holo messages to each other. She entered the combination on the keypad, then held her breath.  
The door opened.

In the end, there were two more corridors- and two more lone, locked doors- she had to pass through. She managed to guess each combination, after a few attempts (one was another encryption key they'd used during the war; the other was the last six digits of her old comm number).

Thankfully, no booby traps or stormtroopers descended on her when she entered an incorrect combination. But then again.… Once passed through each door, it sealed behind her, and offered no way out- and that was just as excellent of a security measure. Any trespassers would be found and dealt with by the Dark Lord himself.

As Padme passed through each door, and entered each new corridor, the materials used to construct it became more and more luxurious. The durasteel floors became plush scarlet carpets. The walls transitioned from dark metal to painted plaster. And the number of elegant lighting fixtures- all from Naboo- multiplied.

And finally- finally- Padme passed through the last, locked doorway. Her jaw dropped as it slid silently open.

She was looking at the circular entrance hall of Varykino- her family's lakeside retreat on Naboo. Padme stumbled across the marble floors, feeling faint.

Her gaze flew to the scene across from her. A rosy marble balcony overlooked a sandy beach, and a gorgeous, clear blue lake. The sky was a pure, light color; birds flitted above the forested mountains- and Padme could hear everything: the crashing waves, the birds' songs, the gentle breeze rustling through the forest leaves.

A smile, a true, beautiful smile, lit up her face. Padme raced across the sweeping, domed room, scarcely able to believe what she was seeing as she stepped onto the balcony. Her hand tentatively settled on the railing. She was home- _home!_

The smile slowly faded as she came back to her senses.  
_I'm on Coruscant… I'm on Coruscant, inside Vader's castle._

She leaned over the balcony railing. With trembling fingers, Padme stretched out her hand- then flinched as she touched a cool, smooth surface about a meter away from the balcony.  
_It's just a holoscreen,_ she realized, heart sinking as she touched the curved wall. _Just a recording._  
The beach, the lake, the mountains- they were all an illusion.

Padme softly drew back from the moving mural. As her fingertips left the wall, the image flickered- then shifted. Her jaw dropped as a towering forest suddenly appeared, golden sunlight filtering through the canopy.

Experimentally, Padme waved her hand- she tried to mimic the gesture she'd made seconds ago. The holoscreen shifted again, showing her a sparkling nightscape: the skyscrapers of Coruscant, glowing a thousand artificial colors beneath the inky sky.

Padme clutched the balcony railing, a lump forming in her throat. She'd had enough of Coruscant for one day.

She waved her hand in the opposite direction. The tightness in her chest eased somewhat as the scene of Coruscant disappeared, and the softly lit forest took its place.

Padme turned, leaving the balcony behind her. This impossible space was starting to make a lot more sense. She craned her neck to stare at the domed ceiling- logic told her this secret level was too short to accommodate such a towering, domed structure.  
_Another holoscreen,_ she thought sadly. The real ceiling couldn't be even three meters off the floor- not if Vader wanted this secret floor to go unnoticed. A secret level, by definition, had to be short enough to fit undetected between two "real" levels.

She made her way across the entrance hall, weaving around the settees and tables. They were plush, expensive pieces, perfect copies of the furniture on Varykino. Perhaps they were the actual pieces from Naboo. Vader could have moved them here.

Padme quickly pressed that thought aside. She didn't want to think about the Sith Lord trespassing in a place she held so close to her heart. Instead, she turned her attention to the rest of the room.

The right side of the entrance hall was completely taken up by the "balcony" and holoscreen, while the center of the room was filled with tasteful Nubian furniture. However, the left end of the foyer housed six tall wooden doors.

_Speaking of doors…_  
Padme glanced behind her. There was the durasteel door she'd entered through…  
And sure enough, there was no control panel she could use to let herself out.

She went over and tested the durasteel door, just to be sure. She waved Vader's passkey across every surface she could think of. She even searched for an oddly placed bust or bookshelf that could be hiding the door controls.

Padme found nothing. She was well and truly stuck.  
_Well, then… onto the other doors._

She briskly crossed the foyer, and opened the first wooden door. (It was a traditional, hinged door, the type only found in Naboo's ancient temples and palaces. Padme felt certain that it couldn't lock itself behind her- but just to be safe, she held the door open as she peered inside the next room.)

Behind the first grand door was a round dining room. It showcased another "balcony" at the back end- the holoscreen behind it displayed the softly lit forest scene. A polished wooden table stood the center of the room, with high-backed chairs arranged around it.

A lump formed in Padme's throat, an old memory momentarily blinding her. She'd been in this room before- so had Anakin.  
_"Now, don't tell Obi-Wan I did this for you," Anakin teased her as he cut the piece of green shurra fruit. Senator Amidala smiled, entranced._  
_With a soft, mischievous smile, Anakin raised his hand- and a slice of fruit began to levitate. It floated towards his companion._  
_Padme lifted her fork, deftly catching the slice. She tried not to blush as she took a bite._  
_Gods, he was so handsome… and he knew it._

Quickly, Padme backed out of the room, slamming the door shut.

The next room, as it turned out, was no better. It was a sitting room with a grand fireplace- another replica of Varykino.  
_"I know… I know it's very late. Thank you for getting up to talk to me." Anakin's words sounded oddly formal- as if he'd rehearsed this conversation a hundred times. "I'm sorry to wake you up, it's just… there's something I've wanted to talk to you about for a while, and I've only just figured out how to say it."_  
_"Alright," Padme cautiously replied. Beneath her ribs, her heart was racing. Was he going to tell her that he…_  
_That he loved…?_

Padme stumbled out of the sitting room, not bothering to close the door behind her.  
_Gods, Anakin, you couldn't build one room that doesn't remind me of everything you ruined?!  
_Fuming, she flung open the door to the next room.

Padme snorted softly. Vader's office, judging by the color scheme. She idly wondered if the Sith knew there were colors other than red and black.

In Vader's office, the floors were dark, reddish wood, while the walls were once again black. Padme ran a finger lightly across the walls, and found they were made of painted plaster, not cold durasteel. At the back of the room were four lancet windows…

_No, these are holoscreens too,_ Padme realized. They showed the softly lit Naboo forest, not a view of Coruscant. Her stomach twisted.  
_There are no windows here, and there's only one door that leads to the other levels of the castle. And that door doesn't open from the inside._

She'd come here willingly- willing to trade her freedom for her friends and family's safety. But now, looking at her pretty cage…  
For that's what this was, a lovely cage, one that Vader had clearly poured his heart into making for her…  
Now that Padme stood inside her beautiful little cage, she wanted nothing more than to tear her way out of it.

_Nothing to do about it now,_ she decided, forcing an air of lightness into her thoughts. _Not if I want my friends and family to be safe, anyway…._

Padme turned, ready to leave the office behind. But there was Vader's personal computer terminal resting on the desk, completely unguarded, no doubt full of Imperial secrets….  
_No. No,_ she told herself firmly._ It's not worth the risk. If Vader catches me passing information to the rebels, he'll never trust me again._  
_Vader promised me anything. Just think about that._  
_Think about Vader shoving Emperor Palpatine toppling off his ill-begotten throne…._

Still, she couldn't quite stop herself from drifting towards Vader's desk. Padme sat herself in the high-backed chair beside it, then massaged her aching temples, trying to think.  
_Should I even be doing this? Should I really be looking for information to pass to the Alliance?_  
Of course she should, how was that even a question? Anakin… as much as she loved him, Anakin had joined the Sith. He had murdered… thousands, no, hundreds of thousands of sentient beings in the past ten years.

_But he promised me he'd do anything… He'd kill the Emperor if I asked him to._  
Or so she hoped.

_And aren't I jeopardizing that arrangement by aiding the rebels behind Vader's back?_  
Padme pinched the bridge of her nose. What kind of a question was that? Of _course_ she was. Of course she was risking Vader's wrath by underhandedly helping his enemies. Vader would never trust her again if he caught her helping the rebels.

A memory dimly welled up in her mind's eye: Anakin's fury when she decided to help Senator Rush Clovis- a former Sepratist spy- investigate the corruption of the Intergalactic Banking Clan.  
_To be fair,_ she admitted,_ the fact that Clovis was my ex had a lot to do with it._

Of course, Padme's intentions with Clovis had never been the slightest bit romantic during that mission. She was a very happily- if secretly- married woman. But her faithfulness hadn't mattered to Anakin. All that had mattered to Anakin was what he perceived as Clovis'... indecent… intentions with regards to her.

Padme leaned back in Vader's chair, running a hand across her weary eyes. Whether she liked it or not, she knew Darth Vader better than anyone else in the galaxy. And whether she liked it or not, if she wanted to help the rebels, she was going to have to play the long game.

That meant being Vader's loving, faithful wife- faithful to him, and faithful to his Empire. As long as she could do that, Emperor Palpatine's days were numbered. And right now, that was the best thing she could possibly do for the Rebel Alliance.  
With a quiet groan, Padme forced herself out of Vader's office.

The other rooms were more of the same: windowless, luxurious quarters built to replicate Varykino, down to the last detail. Listlessly, Padme wandered through the areas. Aside from the dining room, sitting room, and Vader's office, there was a rather impressive library- shelf after shelf of real flimsiplast books, not to mention the holobooks and holovids. Her jaw dropped again when she entered a small, marble dominated by a real swimming pool; her mouth watered a bit when she found the kitchen.

She almost considered eating- her last meal had been at least twenty-four hours ago- but a wave of nausea swirled up at the thought. Her stomach was still tied in anxious knots.

The last area she entered was a sweeping, airy bedroom, complete with a walk-in closet and a 'fresher.  
_I should probably change,_ she dully realized. She didn't really want to be wearing her funeral gown when Vader arrived.

A flash of panic hit her so suddenly that she started.  
_Oh gods- I still have the rebels' cloaking device with me._ She was still wearing it; it was, in fact, still turned on. She'd never turned it off.  
And unless she wanted Vader to get his hands on it, she needed to hide it. Better yet, she needed to find a way to destroy it.

_But where? Not Vader's office, and not the entrance hall…_  
Could she melt it in the sitting room fireplace? But that didn't solve her problem; there'd still be a suspicious lump of metal for her to deal with once it cooled off. Could she even get it back out of the fireplace, once it finished melting down? There hadn't been a fire poker nearby, she hadn't even seen a way to turn the fireplace off. No, the fireplace wasn't an option….

_What about the 'fresher?_  
She rushed inside of it.  
_Calm down,_ she instructed herself. _There's still hours before Vader's supposed to get here.  
_Meticulously, Padme rifled through the cabinets and drawers under the 'fresher countertop. There wasn't much she could use: a hairbrush and combs, makeup palettes, various sparkling hair pieces…  
_What am I supposed to do, flush the cloaking device down the toilet and hope it doesn't clog? Just chuck it in the trash bin and hope Vader never notices?_

At last, she found a somewhat viable option. A small box of feminine hygiene products was tucked away in the corner of a cabinet.  
_Not the most dignified hiding spot,_ she acknowledged,_ but Vader would never have a reason to look in here._

Padme froze, her mind catching up to her frantic actions.  
_Why in the galaxy __**does**__ Vader keep women's toiletries here?_ She'd assumed Vader had built everything here for her. But she'd been dead. And Vader was- according to one of Obi-Wan's theories- encased in some sort of life-support suit. Vader shouldn't be able to eat the food in the fully-stocked kitchen here, and he certainly didn't need this box of ladies' toiletries, or the women's clothing in the closet.

Either Vader had placed everything here for her, in case he succeeded in resurrecting her… or else…  
Ice slipped through her veins.  
_What if Anakin… No. No, Anakin wouldn't have a mistress._  
_Would he?_  
Padme's stomach squirmed uncomfortably. She'd been dead for ten years- only supposedly dead, but dead to Anakin nonetheless. What was there to stop him from taking another woman?

Padme ignored the nausea welling up in her, and simply gritted her teeth.  
_If there is a mistress, I am going to deal with that situation later. I am going to deal with this cloaking device first._  
But that brought up another question- as soon as she hid the cloaking device, she would (obviously) become visible to the castle's security holocams. There were holocams everywhere on this level, except…  
Padme glanced around the room she was currently in.  
_Except in the 'fresher._  
So it was safe for her to take off the cloaking device in here.

But what if Vader was watching the security holos right now? Watching Padme's "ghost" move invisibly through her new quarters, causing doors and objects to move "on their own?" Wouldn't Vader find it strange- even a little suspicious- if Padme suddenly chose to become visible while walking out of the 'fresher, of all places?

And what if Vader had captured the other rebels, and the Sith Lord realized they'd all been carrying cloaking devices? Would Vader put two and two together? Suspect Padme of using a cloaking device herself?  
_I'm probably overthinking this… But I'm going to cover my tracks, just in case._  
And she'd have to do it carefully….

Padme exited the 'fresher with her cloaking device still activated. Invisibly, she crossed the bedroom, heading for the spacious walk-in-closet. She glanced up at the closet ceiling as she flicked on the lights. Sure enough, there was a holocam in each corner of the long room.

_Time to put on a show, then.  
_Padme took her time looking through rack after rack of women's clothing. Gently, she ran her hands across the fabric, letting the holocams capture the garments' mysterious movements. Padme tried to unclench her jaw, as her mind conjured images of Vader's mistress touching these same gowns.  
_I don't know that he has a mistress,_ Padme firmly told herself. _And I don't care if he does have one._  
She ignored the sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.

Padme frowned, brow creased in concentration, as she spotted a golden dress embroidered with pink flowers.  
_My dress… the one I wore on Naboo, in the meadows with Anakin._  
She pulled the delicate dress off the hangar, holding it against her petite body, just to be sure. Padme let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.  
_It is my dress- the exact same dress._  
Not some replica Vader had designed for his mistress.  
_Not that I care if he has a mistress. I don't… I don't… I don't._

But that didn't stop her heart from lifting as she realized how small that possibility really was.  
_I'm being ridiculous,_ she told herself. _This is a closet filled with my clothes. This is a… not a home, but a place to live… filled with all the things Vader knows I loved. This was meant for me, not some other woman._  
But the relief was short-lived.  
_This isn't Anakin showing his love for me. This is Vader obsessing over me. There's a difference. A very disturbing difference…._  
Padme shuddered, trying not to picture the necromantic experiments Obi-Wan had warned her of.

She spent a while longer idly moving the clothes around, letting the holocams capture the movements. She refused to dwell on the memories her old dresses brought up. And when she felt it was safe to do so, Padme pulled a warm-looking dress off its hangar, gathered some socks and undergarments from the dresser, and brought them into the 'fresher with her.

Now, at least the "ghost" of Padme would have a reason to suddenly become visible on her way out of the 'fresher- even if it was a little far-fetched. Padme was going to accept the offerings Vader had left for her: specifically, a change of clothes and a hot shower.

She'd hide her cloaking device in the 'fresher, and when she came back out into the bedroom- in full view of the holocams- she'd be wearing the new clothes Vader had left for her. Padme hoped that would give her "ghost" a reason to suddenly become visible to the holocams.

It didn't have to be a perfect alibi. It just had to be good enough to hide the fact that she had a cloaking device…. Something a ghost definitely didn't need.

Padme stepped into the 'fresher with her new clothes. At last, as the door closed behind her, Padme turned off her cloaking device. She flinched- in the mirror was a wild-haired, puffy-eyed woman covered in ash, dirt and blood. Padme leaned toward the mirror, clutching the 'fresher counter for support. She pressed two cold fingers to her cheek. Yes… this was her. Torn dress, mascara running down her cheeks, scrapes and cuts and even burns covering her pale, shivering body.  
_How close was I to the explosion in the alleyway?_  
If she'd felt any pain, she hadn't noticed it then. She could barely feel it now- a dull throb pulsing its way through her numb, frigid body. Gods, she looked like she'd just crawled out of her grave.

_The cloaking device,_ her mind prompted her.  
_Right._  
Carefully, Padme knelt down, wincing as sharp pains shot up through her knee. For Force's sake, how had she been so oblivious to her injuries before?

She shook her head as she dug through one of the cabinets beneath the 'fresher counter. With a trembling hand, she pulled out the box of feminine hygiene products, and shoved the rebels' cloaking device into the very bottom. She sighed, dissatisfied.  
_That won't work. What if it just falls out one day?_  
Padme pulled the cloaking device back out. Taking her time, she sifted through the various women's toiletries in the box, until she found a product slightly larger than the cloaking device. She unwrapped the product, and threw out the clean cotton; then she painstakingly enclosed the cloaking device in the product's wrapper. Padme did her best to conceal the cloaking device's shape by stuffing extra tissues beneath the wrapper.  
_It could be worse,_ she decided as she stuffed the disguised cloaking device into the very bottom of the box of toiletries.  
She stood up- and cursed, the pain driving through her knee like a small sword.

"Shiraya's _wings,_" Padme swore, clamping a hand over her leg. That was a mistake; the simple act practically set her limb on fire.  
She shrugged off her cloak and tattered silk gown, examining the damage.

_Shrapnel… oh, sharrows, that's a lot of shrapnel._ She felt bile rise up in her throat as she observed the bloody, shredded, bright red knee cap.  
_It's okay… it's okay, it's just tiny pieces. Not even as big as my fingernail. They're each maybe the size of half my fingernail._  
"It's scabbed over," she muttered soothingly to herself. "It's scabbed over, I'm not bleeding out. It's okay. It's just surface stuff; it's not even in there that deep. And I can still walk. It'll be fine."

She stumbled over to the shower, managing to turn on the hot water before she had to lean against the 'fresher counter to support herself. Irrationally, she wished Vader was here.

Well, maybe it wasn't that irrational. Pulling shrapnel out of her own knee wasn't exactly pleasant.

Trying not to gag at the thought of doing _that_, Padme shuffled over to the medicine cabinet. Sure enough, there was a medkit there. She pulled out a pair of tweezers, some gauze, and several bacta patches, then dragged herself into the hot shower.

It _hurt._ Like acid rain. But she curled up on the tile floor, and forced her marred knee under the steady flow of water, letting the shower clean the injury for her. And she forced herself to take deep, even breaths, even as her limbs trembled.

Pulling out the shrapnel was the worst part. She did it intermittently, giving herself breaks to wash her hair, or scrub the ruined makeup off her scraped face. It probably just dragged the whole process out, but she accepted that. It kept her from going crazy in the meantime.

Finally, it was over, and she stuck her knee out of the shower, carefully patting it dry. She hissed softly with each touch, but it wasn't the worst pain she'd felt in the past few days. That thought kept her going. Then she added bacta patches to her knee and wrapped a stiff bandage around the whole thing.

She towel dried her hair and the rest of her body, then managed to wriggle into the undergarments she'd brought with her. The dress came next- it was a soft, white, warm thing, velvet on the outside and lined with fur inside the long, flowing sleeves. Padme gratefully hid her hands in the warm sleeves, her shivers finally subsiding.

She gave herself permission to comb and dry her hair, and to apply a bit of makeup. Padme wanted to look as put-together as she could for her encounter with Vader. Not like the wild-eyed gutter rat she'd appeared to be earlier.

She tossed her ruined cloak and funeral gown into the trash bin. She'd already pulled the small flowers out of her hair, letting them run down the shower drain.  
_I hope I never see those again in my life._  
As for her dagger, and the leather scabbard for her forearm? She just tossed them into a drawer. Vader already knew she had the dagger, he'd seen her with it in the alleyway. If he was determined to find the weapon and take it from her, he'd find it, regardless of where she hid it. (The cloaking device was another matter. Vader didn't know she had it- and he didn't need to know she had it- so he wouldn't be searching for it.)

Padme finally limped out of the 'fresher. She glanced at the chrono on the nightstand. Already, it was past five o'clock.

Quietly, Padme cursed herself for telling Vader to meet her at exactly midnight. When she'd first set that deadline, she hadn't even intended to stay at the castle- she hadn't had any idea of what to do. All she'd been trying to do was buy herself time.

She hadn't known if she would use the time she'd bought herself to search for Obi-Wan and the Ghost crew, or to steal information from Vader's castle and escape off-world. She certainly hadn't planned to willingly stay in the castle.

But when she'd begun to suspect her child survived… that had changed everything. And now here she was, locked in the secret quarters Vader had built for her. Padme looked at the chrono on the nightstand and sighed. Unfortunately, she still had seven hours before Vader would arrive. Seven hours that he could be using to hunt down the rebels….

Again, Padme cursed herself, thinking of Sabine, and Obi-Wan, and the rest of her friends…. They were in danger because of her. And right now, there was nothing she could do about it. Nothing but stare at the chrono on the nightstand, counting down the hours until Vader returned….

Something else on the nightstand caught Padme's eye: a small, black leather book. She hadn't noticed it before, but it looked like it had been hastily discarded there. It sat askew on the table, face-down with the pages splayed out beneath it.  
_Like Vader was reading this, and set it down in a hurry._

Curiosity stirred, Padme picked up the book, and settled onto the large bed to read. The first thing she noticed was that there was a pen on the nightstand, one that had been trapped beneath the book- and the book she was holding was handwritten.  
_A journal?_

She started to skim the page the journal was opened to- then realized she was trying to start reading in the middle of the entry. She flicked back to the beginning of the most recent entry. A jolt surged through her spine as she recognized Anakin's handwriting.

_My love,_

_It's been ten years now since I wrote you that first letter. I miss you just as much as I did on that first day, and I wish I had found more time to write to you recently._  
_I've been very busy with preparations for this tenth Empire Day- although that is no excuse to delay writing to you. Still, I hope you will forgive me, and understand that what little time I have to myself, I use to try and bring you back to me._

_In that regard, I've met another dead end, one just as frustrating as my last failure. Although I uncovered the holocron of Darth Andeddu- the Sith Lord who was once hailed as immortal- I found nothing of use. There were rituals pertaining to the preservation of self, but nothing I could use to bring you home to me. In the end, I decided it was best to destroy the holocron, and prevent my master from gaining the same knowledge._

_I miss you, Padme. You and our child. I love you both more than you could know, and I hope you will forgive me for the time we have lost together. We'll be together soon, beloved, I promise you. It's only a matter of ti_

The entry ended abruptly. He must have been interrupted, by the rebels, or the Emperor….

Padme took a deep, shuddering breath, biting her lip to try and keep the tears from spilling out of her eyes. She'd cried too much today, already.

But her efforts were in vain. Hot tears coursed down her cheeks as the sobs shook her body, and she turned back to the very first page of the journal- it was dated to nearly ten years ago.

_My dearest Padme,_

_Today is your lifeday, beloved, and I sat down to write you a letter as I always do for the occasion. It wasn't until I picked up the pen that I remembered you aren't here to celebrate it with me._

_I hope that, in some way, you will know that I keep you constantly in my thoughts. Everyday, I meditate on the memories I have of you, so that they may never fade away. I've caught myself foolishly hoping that if I think of you long enough, it will summon your spirit._

_Do not be afraid, my love. Wherever you are now, know that I will never cease to think of you; nor will I ever cease to love you. Nor will I ever stop searching for a way to bring you back to me._

_Wherever you are now, Padme, don't worry. I'm coming. I promise._

_With all my love,_  
_Anakin._

Padme pressed a hand to her mouth, her vision blurring, the sobs still wracking her body. She jumped up on shaking legs, wanting to be somewhere, anywhere, but on the bed beside that journal. Dark spots abruptly filled her vision- she gasped as her head spun. She shouldn't be surprised, really, she chastised herself. She'd stood up much too suddenly, and hadn't eaten or drank anything in nearly a day, and she'd probably lost a bit of blood from her injuries….

Her vision grew dimmer, the room still swooping back and forth. Unsteadily, she backed up to the bed, hands grasping blindly for something to balance herself with…. Her legs hit the bed, and she managed to crawl atop it before her knees buckled. She felt herself crumple atop the soft covers.

She didn't even realize she passed out.

* * *

Vader limped out of his master's throne room, the apprentice's bones still aching from wave after wave of Force lightning. Sidious had been disgusted by the escape of Kenobi, not to mention the Ghost crew's leader, Hera Syndulla. Vader gritted his teeth. The apprentice had captured the rest of the rebel crew, not to mention two Jedi, Kanan Jarrus and Ezra Bridger. But the Emperor showed no mercy.

Still, one thought had kept Vader sane: it would be midnight soon. The Sith Lord's pain faded as he glanced at the chronometer on the wall of the Imperial Palace. It was six o'clock. Only six more hours until he could see _her_ again, and yet it felt like an eternity stretched between them.

Vader staggered eagerly out of the Imperial Palace. He had no wish to stay there, tempting his master's fury; yet Vader couldn't return to his own castle yet- not until exactly midnight, as Padme had warned him.

In the end, Vader decided simply to wait in his speeder, flying aimlessly through Coruscant's empty skies.  
_6:21 P.M…._  
_6:35..._  
_6:42…._

Vader tapped his fingers impatiently against the steering yoke. With a quiet, frustrated growl, he landed his dark speeder in some sort of empty park, one within view of his castle. Perhaps here he could find something to occupy his mind until midnight….  
Vader pulled out his comlink, checking for any missed calls or messages he could attend to.

To his shock, there were dozens upon dozens of messages on his direct frequency- and every Imperial knew that calling Lord Vader directly, in any case except a drastic emergency, was an automatic death sentence.

Frowning, Vader scrolled through the messages, starting with the oldest first. There was one from roughly noon that day, from some ambitious technician blabbering on about prototype cloaking devices- rebel technology to rival the Empire's. Vader decided to deal with that matter tomorrow; it was nothing urgent. And the technician who dared contact him this way would have to be reminded of that….  
_Tomorrow._ Vader didn't dare begin any new matters so close to midnight.

The rest of the messages were all- his stomach dropped- security alerts from his castle. Vader immediately opened them, thoughts of Padme's safety flying through his mind.

Vader had never trusted sentient beings to monitor his security systems; Vader knew they could easily be bribed by the Emperor to spy on him. Instead, Vader programmed the security system to send reports to his comlink whenever something outside routine occurred- that could mean a door was opened by someone other than Vader or the cleaning droids, or it could mean the holocams captured footage of a person not on the facial recognition program's whitelist…. There were a hundred thousand possibilities.

Now his comlink was filled with those automatic messages. They each contained time stamps and holocam footage from that day, along with brief information crawls stating that Vader's passkey had been used to open various doors, and even-  
For a moment, Vader couldn't breathe. Someone had used Vader's own passkey to break into the secret level.

Swiftly, Vader opened the first message.  
_2:21 P.M. Door #5 [East Exterior Door] opened. Personal passkey [VADER] used._  
_Facial recognition software detects no one._  
_Footage: Holocam #117_  
Vader played back the footage. The door opened… and no one entered the castle. Frowning, Vader opened the next message.  
_2:25 P.M. Turbolift #5 [East Interior Lift] summoned._  
_Facial recognition software detects no one._  
_Footage: Holocam #119_  
Vader played back this footage, as well. The turbolift doors opened in the hall… and again, there was no one present.

Uneasily, Vader looked up, observing his castle in the distant city skyline. This wasn't the work of any ordinary criminal.  
_2:34 P.M. Door [NO DESIGNATION NUMBER] opened. Personal passkey [VADER] used._  
_Facial recognition software detects no one._  
_Footage: Holocam #1005_  
Vader's grip tightened on the comlink as he watched the floor panel slowly slide open, revealing the secret staircase leading to Padme's future quarters.

The Sith Lord rewound the footage to 2:25 P.M., when the turbolift had been summoned to the ground level. Sure enough, less than a minute later, the turbolift opened on the top floor of Vader's quarters. Dark thoughts swirled through Vader's mind as he contemplated the events.  
_So the thief steals one of my passkeys, and uses a cloaking device to enter my quarters…._ Vader clenched his fists. _Perhaps this is Hera Syndulla or Kenobi, using the rebels' prototype cloaking devices…._

He was shocked from his musings at the sound of _her_ beautiful voice just a moment later. It was only a murmur, one Vader couldn't quite make out; he hastily rewound the footage, playing it back at the highest volume.  
"It's beautiful," Padme murmured, just a few moments after the turbolift opened.

Vader laughed, a smile breaking across his face as tears spilled out of his eyes.  
_It was real. It was all real._  
Was that why she had asked for his passkey, then? To reassure him that what he'd seen in the alley was not some hallucination or fantasy? That she was truly there, truly waiting for him, leaving him whatever trace of herself that she could?

Vader listened to her voice again, and again, the smile never leaving his face. Any thoughts of the rebels faded from his mind.

Finally, he found the patience to let the footage play. He watched as the secret keypad was discovered- Vader couldn't see her, but Padme was clearly the one who had found it. No one else could have guessed such a personal passcode on their first try, much less also have Vader's passkey with them.

Vader watched, heart trembling, as she discovered the secret stairwell that led to the small paradise he'd built for her.  
_The other security alerts,_ his thoughts saw fit to remind him.  
Vader quickly glanced through the other messages- and found Padme was behind all of them. He watched the footage- although she remained invisible- as she made her way through the three other, redundant doors that kept her from her quarters. Vader smiled, listening to her softly curse with each incorrect entry on the keypads; he rejoiced in her triumphant laughter when she finally made it inside.

And Vader was content to watch the traces of her presence in their home: he quickly skimmed through the hours footage, pausing to watch as Padme caused a holoscreen to shift, a wooden door to swing open, a chair to shift its position.

He listened to her hum a gentle melody as she moved the dresses in the closet, even pulling one or two off the hangars and holding them up- and even as Vader treasured the precious recordings, he longed to see her face again.

At one point, Vader watched as a white dress was pulled from the closet, and floated into the 'fresher. Vader skimmed through the footage at a quick pace, and found that the 'fresher door opened roughly an hour later, and-  
He jumped, as if struck by lightning. Padme walked into the bedroom, visible on holocams now, dressed in the long white gown- not the funeral dress she'd worn when first appearing to him.

Vader stretched out a trembling hand, tracing the curves of her cheek. He drew back only when his touch caused the hologram to flicker. He watched as she picked up his journal… and his heart ached for her as she cried, reading his letters to her. Vader wanted nothing more than to hold her hand, to promise her they would be together now, that everything would be alright….

His eyes widened as she suddenly scrambled to her feet. And moments later, Padmé collapsed atop the bed, unconscious.

Heart racing, Vader sped up the recording, fear tightening in his chest as he saw that over the past three hours, she hadn't moved once. And now he was looking at a live feed from the holocams: he breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Padmé's chest subtly rise and fall. For a moment, Vader cradled his head- really, his helmet- in his gloved hands.  
_She's alive…. She's alright…._  
He would return home to his wife, not her corpse.

_What if she's hurt?_  
Did Vader dare return to the castle now, hours early? He stared at the dark silhouette of the building before him.

Padmé had given him signs that she was already there, signs that she was ready for him to return- signs that Vader had nearly missed.

What if she had needed his help? What if that was why she tried to gain his attention- because she was hurt, or because her spirit didn't have the strength to remain there until midnight?

Ice ran through Vader's veins at that last thought. Adrenaline flooded through him as his speeder shot through the dark skies, racing for his castle's hangar bay.

The journey seemed to pass in mere instants, in a panicked, blurred haze. As Vader landed, he glanced down to the security hologram: Padmé was still in bed where she'd collapsed. She didn't move; she gave no sudden warning for Vader to leave, and return only at midnight.

Vader sprinted through the corridors, running harder than he ever had in his life. One frantic thought pulsed through his mind:  
_Not again. I can't lose her again._  
_Not again. Not again. Not again._  
_Please, Force, not again._

He impatiently rode the turbolift, opened the secret passages, and unlocked the many secure doors between him and his wife. He had meant to keep out those who would harm her, but now, he only kept himself from saving her.

At last, the final door opened, and Vader rushed into the bedroom. He stumbled to a halt just short of the doorway.  
Padmé was _there_\- right there, on the bed before him.  
_And she's alright._  
He could sense her presence now: it was strong, and steady, if exhausted. She was not on the verge of death, as he had first feared.

Softly, not wishing to disturb her, Vader crossed the room. He took a seat on the bed, beside his angel. Hot tears slipped down Vader's cheeks as he brushed a gloved hand against her cheek.  
"Padmé," he murmured, gently stroking her hair as he tried to wake her. His bride began to stir, pressing her cheek against his hand.  
"Anakin…" she mumbled in her sleep.  
"I'm here, beloved." Vader's voice trembled as he spoke. He sent her what strength he could through the Force. "It's alright. You're safe, Padmé, you're here with me."

Slowly, her caramel eyes fluttered open.  
"Anakin?" She softly asked, and that simple word was the most beautiful sound Vader had ever heard.


	14. Reunion

Hazily, she grew aware of his presence in her chambers. She wasn't quite sure what brought him into her mind. It was like his mind had reached out to hers, hoping to wake her.  
"Anakin?" Her lips mumbled of their own accord. She didn't really know if it was really him. She couldn't see the man beside her- her eyes were too heavy to drag open- but something about the stranger on her bed was familiar. Intimately so. Like a well-loved melody played in a darker key; his presence was comforting and disconcerting all at once.

"I'm here, beloved." His deep voice, cut apart by harsh breaths, murmured. "It's alright. You're safe, Padmé, you're here with me."  
Slowly, sensations returned to her: touch-  
_his gloved hand cupping her cheek, the soft covers coiled beneath her body;_  
smell-  
_the scents of stale recycled air, and freshly laundered sheets;  
_sound-  
_his harsh, labored breathing._

Slowly, her caramel eyes fluttered open.  
"Anakin?" Padmé softly asked- this time, aware of what she was saying.  
His breath hitched.  
She tried to focus her eyes on the tall, dark figure sitting on the bed beside her.

Wordlessly, he bent down towards her, his hands cupping her face.  
"You're alright," he whispered, almost to himself. "When I saw you on the holocams… I thought… I was so worried you were hurt."  
She couldn't fail to notice that his voice- no, his whole body- was trembling.  
"I'm alright," she breathed, trying to force the words past her dry throat. "I'm sorry."  
How many times had they apologized to each other that way, during the war? Apologizing for worrying the other, for rushing into danger, knowing full well they would each do it again? And again?  
She knew she shouldn't care if she'd made Darth Vader worried. But she did.

"I just… haven't eaten in a long time." She said. Her voice was hoarse, almost soundless. "And I lost a bit of blood, I think. It's nothing serious. I'm alright, I promise."  
"Lost blood?" He echoed. "Padmé, you're hurt?"  
"No… not bad." Her weak voice did little to convince him. "It's just some shrapnel… from the alley, I think. From the explosion."  
Vader- Anakin- stood. "Where is it?" He asked, his voice suddenly sharp and alarmed as he headed to the 'fresher.  
"No, I-I pulled it out…." She groggily protested. Padmé tried to push herself up. Anakin whirled around- and with a wave of his gloved hand, Padmé felt an invisible force press her back down onto the bed.

"You need to rest." Anakin firmly told her._  
Stupid, kriffing, Force-using show off, _she silently huffed.  
Vader opened the 'fresher door, and used the Force to pull the medkit from the cabinet without even looking- he never let his gaze leave her. "Did you try to pull the shrapnel out on your own?" He asked.  
"Mm-hmm…" she mumbled, trying to recall the past few hours. It was a pain-infused blur. "I think it was from my knee… right knee."

Anakin- Vader- sat beside her on the bed again. "Hold still," he commanded.  
"No- Anakin, I don't want to do this all again-" she protested, trying to sit up. A wave of nausea swept through her, so powerful she fell back against the bed- without assistance from any of Anakin's Jedi… Sith… tricks.  
"It's alright," he soothed her. His free hand rubbed her arm, while the other pulled her skirt above her knees. "I won't let you feel any pain. I promise."

Padmé was about to insist that that was impossible- that there'd been _metal shards lodged in her kneecap, _for gods' sakes- when a strange chill swept through her body. An odd, skin-crawling energy began to radiate out from her core, making each of her limbs go limp. And her head felt heavy… so, so heavy…. She felt it droop to the side, her cheek coming to rest on the silk pillow. Her fingers, loose and noncompliant to her thoughts, uncurled. And her right knee… the strange, skin-tingling energy seemed to be gathering there, pulsing through her leg, making it go numb.

"Wh… what…?" Padmé finally gathered her thoughts enough to say.  
"It's alright," Anakin soothed her again. "It's just me. I won't let you feel a thing."  
"You're… you're doing this?" She forced her heavy lips to move.  
"Yes, my love," Anakin answered. Her heart stopped.  
"You're not… reading my mind, are you? With a mind trick?" She croaked. _  
Oh gods- he could find out everything!_

Vader chuckled softly- a deep, distorted sound once processed by his vocabulator. "No, Padmé. I know how much you value your privacy," he said. "I'm only dulling your perception of sensations. It's somewhat like reading your emotions- but never your thoughts. I promise."  
"Oh.. okay." She murmured, slumping back against the bed. "Thank you."

For the first time, Padmé noticed his hands moving along her knee, rifling through the medkit, and…  
"Oh gods. I hate stitches." She mumbled, running a hand over her bleary eyes.  
"Try not to watch, _ilola," _Vader replied. He used his old, affectionate nickname for her: "_ilola."_ "_Sweetheart"_ in Nubian.  
"Just rest. I'll be done soon." Anakin promised. "Then I'll call a proper med droid to look at you."

Adrenaline shot through her system. "No- Anakin, the Emperor, he can't know I'm here-" Padmé began to protest.  
"He won't." Vader said. "It's my own med droid. One designated for service here. I can wipe its memory afterwards."  
Padmé bit her lip, trying to think of another reason to protest- _without _looking suspicious. Dark fear curled around her heart as she thought of what the med droid might report.

Back on Polis Massa, Obi-Wan had told her she'd undergone surgery while unconscious- something to return her to how she looked before her illness and her coma. Something to make her look exactly as she'd been ten years ago, when Vader had last seen her. Something to make her look like a ghost of her twenty-eight year old self- not… whatever… she had looked like after ten years in a coma.  
_What if the med droid tells Vader about the surgery- surgeries- I had?_  
Gods, she didn't even know what sort of appearance-altering surgery- or how many of them- Obi-Wan had allowed the med droids to put her through. The Jedi had only told her that the procedure was completely reversible- it had only been done so she wouldn't be overly upset or disoriented when she first saw herself; and it had only been meant as a kindness. Overall, Padmé reflected, that was an _incredibly_ vague description of a medical procedure- or several of them.

_And what if Anakin finds out about the surgeries?_  
Would Vader think she was a con artist? A rebel agent?

"What's wrong, my love?" Anakin asked softly, breaking into her thoughts. He paused his medical attentions, reaching out to brush a hand across her cheek.  
"Oh… it's nothing, I just…" She began, knowing she couldn't lie to him without arousing suspicion- he would sense her deception with his Jedi… Sith… powers.  
But Padmé was wise enough to know she couldn't tell him the whole truth. Not for a long, long time, anyway.

"Padmé?" Vader asked, concern finding its way into his voice.  
_Start small, _she coached herself.

"I thought you'd want to hear it from me instead of the med droid," Padmé began, keeping her voice soft and sweet. She reached up to hold his hand against her cheek. "I…" She laughed timidly, feeling her face heat up. "Honestly, I feel a bit silly, telling you about it now. I ended up getting a tattoo."  
Vader laughed, too, shoulders slumping in relief. "You had me worried. Don't scare me like that," he admonished. He picked up the needle and thread he'd set aside, turning to her knee to finish her stitches. Padmé quickly averted her eyes.

"A tattoo?" Vader asked, mildly amused. "When in the worlds did this happen?"  
"A… a day or two ago, actually," She quietly confessed. "I didn't… didn't just wake up on Coruscant."

A heavy silence settled over the bedroom. What was Anakin assuming? That she'd crawled out of her grave on Naboo, before travelling here?

"I'm so sorry," Vader said at last. "I should have been there."  
Padmé shook her head. "No… no, you couldn't have known," she softly replied. Silence settled in again, thick with guilt and secrets and regrets.

Anakin concentrated on her stitches for some time. Padmé could see- from the small slump of his armored shoulders, and the way he bowed his head- that her words had placed a greater burden on him than she'd intended.

"You're not even going to ask me what my tattoo is?" She half-heartedly teased, trying to return the lightness to the conversation- or, more accurately, the lack of it. "I thought my lord would have better manners."  
He looked up, and she could tell that he was smiling beneath the skull-like helmet.  
"My humble apologies, my lady." Vader rumbled. "I promise, you have my full attention."  
"I would certainly hope so!" Padmé laughed- she couldn't help it. "You have no idea how far I've gone to try and get it lately."

For a moment, her heart ached; the pain shot through her chest like a lance. It was so simple, so easy, to slip back into their old life- the gentle teasing, the affectionate touches, the desperation to have each other's company before the war drew them apart again.

But this wasn't their old life. It was a shadow of it, a mockery. Here was her husband, _her Anakin,_ teasing her and tenderly bandaging her wounds- _her Anakin, _a Dark Lord of the Sith. _Her Anakin, _who still cared for her- to the point of obsession. To the point of attempting necromancy, to the point of building this extravagent palace for a woman long accepted to be dead. Padmé wasn't even sure if she was free to leave the new "home" Anakin had built for her.

Guilt welled within her for- in some small way- having enjoyed the comforts Vader had provided. A soft bed, a hot shower, a change of clothes. She knew that like everything in this palace- everything in this Empire- they had been bought with innocent blood. The Jedi… the _younglings…._

Shame- bright, hot, burning shame- pressed upon her for openly receiving Darth Vader's love. For allowing him to make her laugh, for teasing and comforting him in return, for expressing _her own love _to him when he deserved nothing close to it.  
All while her friends were most likely running for their lives. Or locked away in an Imperial prison. Quite possibly being tortured…

"Well?" Vader prompted gently.  
"Hmm?" She neutrally replied, trying to buy herself time to gather her thoughts. _  
Every moment Vader's here with you a moment he's not hunting down the rebels, _she firmly reminded herself. _Now get over yourself and your guilt. Be a loving wife. Prance around in fancy clothes. Above all, __**keep Vader here as much as you can.**_

"You were going to tell me about your tattoo," Vader reminded her. From the looks of things, he'd finished stitching up her knee, and was just beginning to bandage it. "But you seem very tired," he commented.  
"Oh… no," Padmé insisted, pulling her thoughts back to the present. "I'm sorry. I'm just a little drowsy still, that's all."  
"Padmé, I meant what I said." Anakin gently admonished as he packed away the medkit. "You should rest. We can talk in the morning."  
"No! No, I don't want you to leave," she pleaded, pressing herself up as she reached for his hand. "Please stay. I'm alright, really."

Vader put aside the medkit, wrapping his arms around her. They stayed like that for a moment: Padmé leaning against his chest, still too weak to support herself; Vader refusing to let go.  
"I'm not leaving," he quietly promised. "No matter what."

Vader gingerly pulled her closer, slinging her legs over one of his mechanical arms, very careful not to jostle her injured knee. He wrapped his free arm around her waist, and held her bridal-style in his arms. And while Padmé had never been prudish around her husband, she still found herself blushing at the sudden intimacy. Vader delicately stood- he was immensely careful not to provoke her injury as he picked her up.

"Padmé, I still think you should rest," Vader insisted. He waved one gloved hand, using the Force to pull back the covers on the bed.  
"I know, love," Padmé replied, letting her head rest on his armored shoulder.

A moment later, Vader set her in the center of the bed, leaving space for himself to lay beside her. It was an almost comical image: the fully-armored Sith Lord climbing into the plush four-poster bed, boots, cape, and all. Padmé hid a smile.

Anakin tucked a spare pillow into the crook of his arm- and then carefully brought Padmé into his arms, ensuring the spare pillow kept her comfortable as she laid against his armored body.  
"Gods, I just can't stop my mind from drifting, can I?" She sighed.  
"Hmm?" Vader asked, perfectly content.  
"This is what I was trying to show you," she murmured. Trying not to blush as she hiked up her skirt- he was her husband, for Force's sakes, he'd seen much more than this- Padmé hesitantly revealed the skin of her stomach.

The stretch marks on her stomach must have faded away years ago. But a faint, long scar from her emergency c-section remained. Her new tattoo was centered atop it, near her right hip.

It was a small tattoo, not even ten centimeters across. The bird- a wren- was done in a simple black outline. Its beak tilted up toward her chest, as if the bird was flying up towards her heart.

Soft colors spilled out of the bird's black outline, swirling around like watercolor paint. The swirls of "paint" formed patterns recognizable only to Padmé: the markings on her Japor Snippet, the necklace Anakin had carved for her so many years ago.

"It's from that old Nubian nursery rhyme," she said, her fingertips tracing the design. "One bird for sorrow, two for joy; three for a girl, four for a boy…."  
She didn't say anything about the wren representing Sabine- or the small spider, hidden in its feathers, that represented Padmé's call sign among the _Ghost _crew: "widow."

_One bird for sorrow, two for joy; three for a girl, four for a boy;  
One bird for life lost, two for its cost;  
__A third for the widow, whose loves left her behind;  
And a fourth for her hopes, still undefined.  
_  
Padmé bit her lip, her chest rising and falling heavily as she thought of her lost child. But no tears fell. She'd used them all up in the last few days.  
"I… after… after Mustafar… when the fortress collapsed… I was hurt, but s-still alive. Obi-Wan brought me to a medcenter." She whispered. "The med droids… s-said…" She swallowed tightly.  
_  
The blistering heat, the ash blowing into her face, choking her. The fortress filled with corpses. Anakin coldly standing over them, his eyes stained the ugly yellow of the Sith._

_Anakin and Obi-Wan left the fortress, preparing to duel. She'd been trapped within the citadel, unable to leave it on her own, too ill to even stand. __She'd waited what felt like eternities, until there was a terrible, thunderous sound of impact, like a turbolaser striking the black crust of Mustafar._

_She would later learn that Obi-Wan, walking away from the duel, was spotted by a shuttle filled with clone troopers… and the Emperor. The shuttle's gunner tried to blast Obi-Wan to bits- only to strike the fortress Padmé was hidden in._

_The crash of the turbolasers had come again, and again, and again, closer each time, the sound of an abhorrent giant inevitably treading towards her. It was so close and loud that the floor had trembled beneath her feet. The walls trembled, the ceiling trembled, and with a flash of red light, they collapsed._

_Padmé had thrown herself beneath a table, curling her body protectively around her stomach, around her unborn child. Something unbearably heavy slammed atop her back, and she couldn't breathe. She couldn't speak. Black spots swam before her vision..._

_Obi-Wan was shouting her name, then screaming it. He stepped close to her, so close she could see his singed boots. Padmé drew what little air she could into her lungs, and tried to scream, shout, make a sound, anything. What came out was a small whimper._

_It was enough. Obi-Wan whirled around immediately, using the Force to lift the rubble off her back, and she collapsed. Once again, everything faded to black…._

_Only to come back into focus at an entirely different place. She felt numb, and cold, and it scared her more than any pain possibly could have. She couldn't feel her legs, or most of her torso. A med droid hovered to her side to deliver a message: they needed to operate immediately.  
_

"_Regretfully, we cannot save both you and your children." The white droid said in an acceptably sympathetic tone. "We ask that you make this decision soon."  
Padmé nodded, a lump forming in her throat. "Save my baby, please," she whispered, trembling.  
_"_Wait… please," Obi-Wan said to the droid. He was here, and he was alive…. Which meant…._

_Padmé felt her heart stop._

_**Anakin is dead. **__  
_"_Please, there has to be something, anything more you can do…." Obi-Wan trailed off; the Jedi's words had no effect on the plastoid med droid._

_Padmé burst into tears.  
_

_**Anakin is dead. **__  
_"_Just save my baby, please, help him," she pleaded, "we're wasting time."_

_Anakin might have died, but their child would live. She could do that much. _

She'd faded back to consciousness what had felt like years later. And it had been- it had been almost exactly ten years since she'd fallen into her coma.

"The med droids," Padmé whispered to Vader, "they said… said that they couldn't save me and my baby. I told them to save him…. But…" Her voice broke. She buried her face in Anakin's chest. She couldn't bear to look up, to see her husband's heart breaking.  
"I don't know what happened." She confessed. Two hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She let them fall. "I blacked out. And I woke up years later. I didn't know where I was. I thought you were dead. And our baby… I d-didn't know what happened. I wasn't… wasn't pregnant when I woke up. And I… I have a scar. From a c-section. But everyone says… everyone thinks I'm dead, everyone thinks our baby's dead, too… but I can't… there wasn't… wasn't a body…." Her shoulders shook. But there were no tears. Not anymore. She wondered if it was humanly possible to cry more than she had in the past week. "I don't even know if we had a boy or a girl…." Padmé pressed her hands over her eyes, trying to stop herself.

"Padmé…" Vader whispered brokenly. He would have held her tighter, but he couldn't, not without crushing her.

"I met…" She bit her tongue as hard as she could, trying to steady herself. "I met this girl. Sabine Wren." She felt Vader stiffen incrementally at the name._  
Please, gods, don't let her be dead… don't let Vader have killed her…_  
"I was… disoriented, very badly... when I woke up. Some people took me to a med center, and I… I don't know what I… looked like, before. But when I blacked out, and when I came to again, the med droids told me they'd had to perform surgeries. Cosmetic ones. I don't think I really want to know what they were." Padmé admitted. She hoped the half-truths would guard her from suspicion- if Vader thought she was some sort of con artist working for the rebels, she'd be dead faster than she could say a word in her defense.

Padmé continued, "Sabine… she's the sweetest girl I've met. She stayed with me at the med center, and made sure I was alright. She believed me about everything that happened- and she gave me that tattoo, by my c-section scar. I wanted something to… to remember our baby by, since I didn't have stretch marks anymore." Padmé murmured, twisting a lock of her hair around her finger. Anything to keep her from having to look into Vader's eyes. "Sabine even offered me a place to stay once I left the medcenter. She said I was welcome to stay on her crew, if I didn't have anywhere else to go. But then I got to Coruscant, and everything happened…." Padmé tilted her head up to look at Vader. "I'm worried about her." She whispered softly.

_Please, _her eyes silently pleaded with Anakin. _Please tell me you didn't kill her. Please…._  
_Not her. Not her. Not after everyone else. Not her, too._

"Sabine Wren?" Vader repeated uncertainly. Padmé nodded, heart pounding, hands tightening into fists.  
"A young woman? Dark eyes, brightly colored hair?" Vader probed. Padmé nodded again, anxiously biting down on her lip.  
"She wears Mandolorian armor?" Vader asked, his hand comfortingly running across Padmé's back. She swallowed tightly, trying to work some moisture back into her dry mouth.  
"Yes, that- that sounds like her," Padmé whispered somewhat hoarsely, trepidation pounding through her veins.  
"You don't need to worry for her, _ilola. _She's alive and unharmed, in Imperial custody." Vader said, his hand still running soothingly across her back._  
Thank the gods, _Padmé thought. She sighed in relief, pressing her head against Vader's chest to try and hide her emotions.

"I saw her only hours ago," Vader added. "She was arrested for-" he paused. "...vandalism."  
Padmé smiled wryly. "It was the fireworks shaped like the Rebel starbird, wasn't it?"  
"Yes. _That._" Vader grumbled. "Among other things."

"I almost hate to ask, but…" Padmé swallowed tightly. "Were her friends with her? She was travelling with someone named… Kanan, I think?" She said, feigning ignorance. The less Vader thought she knew about the rebels, the better.  
"Yes, her crew was also taken into custody. Kanan Jarrus, Ezra Bridger, and Zeb Orellios." Vader replied.  
_  
Not Hera?! _She wanted to scream. That meant… either Hera was dead, or she'd gotten away. _  
And, _Padmé's thoughts darkly reminded her, _Vader said nothing about the others being unharmed. He only said that about Sabine._

"What's going to happen to them?" Padmé asked softly. Her fingers traced small circles over Vader's chest- and she desperately hoped that her romantic attitude was subtle, that Vader didn't suspect she was trying to charm him, or win him over.

Vader hesitated before answering her. He tugged the gold-embroidered duvet over her shoulders, then took his time smoothing down the silken covers.  
"I suppose that the crew's fate will depend on the extent of their crimes," he finally said.  
Padmé propped herself up on one arm, giving herself a bit of height over Vader. "Anakin…" She started slowly- then trailed off.  
_How in the worlds do I start making demands __**now?**_

She silently cursed herself for having given up the advantage. She'd planned to be awake, alert, and waiting for Vader at midnight, ready to continue their dramatic confrontation from the alleyway. But instead, her injuries had gotten the best of her, and she'd woken up to Vader tending to her wounds. It had set a very different tone for their meeting, to say the least.

She took a deep breath. _This is not a diplomatic negotiation, _she reminded herself firmly. _This is a conversation with my extremely emotional husband. Nothing about his… obsession… with me is based on logic. It's all about emotion._

"Anakin…" she breathed, leaning over him, letting her hair fall down to brush the side of his mask. "Please. I know… what Sabine's done in the past. And I know I haven't known her very long. But she's like my sister. She took care of me when no one else could." Padmé gazed into Vader's black mask, wishing she could see his eyes. Wishing she could see some semblance of what he was feeling.  
"There has to be something you can do," Padmé pleaded, putting every ounce of feeling she could into those words.  
Vader sat up slowly, his arms still wrapped around her waist. "I suppose," he rumbled, "that under the circumstances, she could be issued a pardon."  
"And her crew?" She pressed. Vader was silent.  
"Anakin… please," she whispered, laying a hand on his arm. "I know what it's like to think… to think that your entire family is just… gone. Dead." Padmé ran her hand gently across Vader's arm. "I don't want that to happen to her."

Vader bowed his head. Perhaps he was pondering the consequences.  
"Yes," he answered at last. "I suppose that it would be possible for them to be pardoned, as well." Vader turned to her, cupping her cheek with his gloved hand. "But, Padmé… I have to be careful. The Emperor… would not be pleased, if he found out I did this."

Padmé leaned into the palm of his hand. She covered his hand with her own as she gazed up at her husband.  
"I know," she finally said, her brown eyes conveying all the horror she felt. "And that's what I needed to talk to you about, Anakin. Really talk to you about."  
He ran his fingers through her dark curls. "I'm listening," he promised, his voice quiet and serious.

"I don't know what happened to our baby," she murmured, bitterness nearly lacing her tone. "But sometimes I almost think that's for the better." She sighed, shutting her eyes against the tears that welled there. "I'm _scared, _Anakin. I'm scared to death that our baby's alive, and that the Emperor's going to find him- or her. I have nightmares about it: Palpatine finding our son or daughter, and turning them into something like Grievous."  
_Or into something like you, _her mind added.

Vader's hand slipped off her cheek, moving down to cup the nape of her neck as he bowed his head. Padmé shivered as the top of his cold, metal helmet pressed against her forehead. His harsh, mechanical breath seemed impossibly loud, now that he was so close. She felt cool air brush against her lips with his every exhale.

Padmé continued before Vader could find the words to speak.  
"Obi-Wan was there with me, at the medcenter all those years ago. I think he knows what really happened." She said. Padmé lifted her eyes, staring into the red lenses of Vader's helmet. She could barely, just barely, make out her husband's eyes behind them. "And I think Obi-Wan would die before he told us anything. He thinks he's protecting our child from the Emperor, by hiding him or her."

Padmé closed her eyes, trying to gather her courage. "Anakin, I'm sorry to ask so much of you so suddenly, but…"  
"Anything, Padmé." He responded immediately. "I promised you, didn't I?"  
She smiled faintly, and lifted his free hand to her lips. She kissed it softly. "You did," she whispered, voice breaking. "Thank you."

"Anakin," she continued thickly, "I think… I think that if you could have defeated the Emperor, you would have by now."  
"Yes," he answered, "I would have done so much sooner, if I could have. But Padmé… I still can," Anakin insisted- pleaded, even. "We could rule the Empire- make things the way we want them to be. Bring peace to the galaxy, like you've always wanted."  
"Anakin," she said softly, "all I ever wanted was your love. Your love, and our child's safety."

"But you didn't let me finish," she added solemnly. "What I needed to ask you is… do you think…"  
Padmé took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "If you asked Obi-Wan for his help defeating the Emperor, then… in return… do you think Obi-Wan would tell us what really happened to our child?"

For a moment, Vader simply stared at her. Padmé bit her lip, suddenly terrified. Had she ruined everything by mentioning Obi-Wan? Would Vader accuse her of betraying him, of caring more for another man?

Vader squeezed her hands softly. "Kenobi might…" Vader murmured, almost to himself. His head snapped up, and even though Padmé couldn't see his face, she could feel the hope clearly emanating from him.  
"Yes," Vader answered, his words strong and clear. "He would."

Padmé felt a smile break across her face, a joyful laugh escaping her as she threw her arms around her husband's neck. He held her tightly, and she ignored the pain racing through her injured knee.  
"Padmé, please, be careful," Anakin pleaded, trying to move her off her injured leg.  
"It doesn't matter," she sobbed, joyful tears escaping her. "Nothing else matters."

She was under no illusions that Anakin had suddenly been redeemed- his actions all stemmed from his destructive obsession with her. If an immoral solution had been more convenient to please or protect her, she knew Anakin would have taken it immediately.

Perhaps someday he would decide to change- but it would have to be his own choice. She couldn't change Vader anymore than she could move the heavens.

No, in this moment, her joyful tears were for her child- for the thought of finally meeting her son or daughter, finally holding them in her arms and telling them how much she loved them, and how sorry she was that she hadn't been there….

Her tears slowed, but a smile still remained on her lips. She was _really, truly, _going to meet her child…. _  
And the Emperor… He won't torment the galaxy ever again._

That was, _if_ Vader and Obi-Wan coulddefeat him.

She shoved that thought out of her mind. She'd deal with that possibility if… please, gods forbid… if it occurred.  
For now, there were more immediate matters.

"I think I know how to get Obi-Wan here," she said, pulling away from Vader's embrace so she could meet his eyes.  
"What do you have in mind?" Vader asked.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

_Thank you to everyone for reading, reviewing, and having great patience in between updates :) __As always, I hope you are all healthy and safe!__  
And special thanks to RyuuShadow- you've left so many thoughtful reviews and I always appreciate them!  
_

**And to my guest reviewer, whom I couldn't directly reply to:**

_Hi! Thank you, of course, for your reviews :) Yes, you did predict some of the last chapter with your reviews- guess our thoughts are pretty in-sync when it comes to this story! Great minds think alike, as they say :)_  
_And I agree, Vader and bureaucracy definitely don't mix. Much less Vader and paperwork…._


	15. Immortality

**Author's Note: **

_I have a tumblr now! I post Star Wars fan art- I just made a couple pieces to go along with Ghost Protocol and my other fic, The Chosen One. If you feel like taking a look, head on over to thejediwhodrew . tumblr . com (sorry, I can't put a real link here; fanfiction . net would automatically censor it as spam)._

_With that said, thank you to everyone for reading/favoriting/following, and especially for leaving reviews! I hope you enjoy this chapter :)_

* * *

Vader breathed a long sigh of relief. At last, his angel was sound asleep.

Idly, he smoothed the covers over her, tucking in the silken sheets at the corners of the bed. It was rather pointless, he supposed. But he found himself grasping at straws, searching for any small act that could soothe her pain.

His head still spun. How was he supposed to comprehend so much at once? Her resurrection- their child's survival- then Kenobi, curse the man, stealing their child, hiding him away- and now, Padme's request:

_Kill the Emperor. _

She had not said it in so few words. She'd spoken like a true diplomat: working her way up to the issue, outlining the reasons for her propositions, the problems it would solve, and then- only then- making one tentative, carefully phrased request. _  
_"_If you asked Obi-Wan for his help defeating the Emperor, then… in return… do you think Obi-Wan would tell us what really happened to our child?"_

She wanted him to kill the Emperor.

He'd said yes, of course- immediately. Why wouldn't he? He had killed hundreds for her, without her asking, without her even knowing what he had done until it was too late. What was it to kill one more man- and such an evil one, at that?_  
A man must be truly evil, _Vader mused, _if even my angel is willing to condemn him to death…._

Even if Padme had not asked, the Emperor's reign would have had to meet its end. Vader tensed, still able to feel the last barrages of Force lightning course through his system- a punishment for his failure. His stomach twisted, for he knew that if Sidious ever learned of Padme's resurrection, the Emperor would take to torturing _her _for Vader's failures….

A chill swept through the Sith apprentice. He remembered the sheer torment of simply _dreaming _about her being in pain… he had never forgotten those prophetic nightmares. They still haunted the fleeting instances of sleep he obtained- at times, they'd nearly pushed him to the brink of insanity.  
To actually witness her being tortured… and because of _him, his failures…_. Perhaps it would truly drive him mad.  
Perhaps that would be a merciful fate.

But Vader would not allow this hellish future to pass.

No. The Emperor could not be allowed to live.

But how to go about killing him… that was the question.

Padme had outlined her plan for obtaining Kenobi's help in this- and Vader had to admit, it was rather brilliant. A small smile traced his lips. His wife's mind worked so quickly… he had always admired her intelligence. Not to mention her kindness, her beauty, and the sense of peace she always brought him…. her presence had always been soothing….

Vader sighed softly. He might be at peace now, but Padme certainly wasn't. Even though she was asleep, Vader could sense the emotional storm battering her mind. She'd been through so much….

And yet, he was certain he didn't know _everything _she'd been through. He was certain Padme had been hiding something. He knew his wife too well- he knew all her minute tells, from the way she avoided his eyes, to the way she fidgeted with her hair or his clothing.

Of course, Vader hadn't pressed her for an answer- as he'd told her earlier, he respected her privacy. He would never read her mind, and certainly never use the Force to make her tell the whole truth. Whatever trauma Padme had been through, Vader wasn't going to force her to relive it. Especially not now, in the midst of what should be a joyful reunion.

_Still… _  
His mind shifted uneasily.  
_Was it the right thing, to let her repress those memories of whatever happened? Will it be all the worse, to let her heal, only to have everything come back and haunt her later?_

Vader's stomach twisted, his chest tightening as the possibilities raced through his mind._  
She was so vague about who brought her to the med center after she woke up…. And so vague about what "waking up" meant. What happened to her?_

_Did one of my experiments work, without me realizing it? Was one of the rituals successful?_

_But then, shouldn't I have sensed her resurrection?_

_Perhaps resurrection was a more gradual process than I anticipated, _a voice of reason answered. _After all, I had sensed her presence growing stronger over the past five days. But I'd assumed it was because the anniversary of her death was growing closer._

_Yes… resurrection as a gradual process seems to explain this. After all, when I first saw her, she was like a ghost- able to appear and disappear at will. But now, she seems…. more grounded in reality. Able to bleed, able to feel pain, able to faint from exhaustion…._

A new thought occurred to the Sith Lord- and Vader shuddered.  
_She wouldn't tell me what she meant, when she said she "woke up," and someone brought her to a med center. What does it mean?_

_Did she… did she suddenly "wake up" in her mausoleum? Was she forced to crawl out of her grave? _

Vader swallowed tightly, shoving that gruesome image aside as he pondered her vague words:  
_"I was… disoriented, very badly... when I woke up. Some people took me to a med center, and I… I don't know what I… looked like, before. But when I came to again the med droids told me they'd had to perform surgeries. Cosmetic ones. I don't think I really want to know what they were."_

_Cosmetic surgeries?_ He wondered. _Then… if she truly woke up in her grave…. Does that mean that she looked… that she looked…_

_That she was still very nearly a corpse? _

Vader tensed, trying to banish the nightmarish images from his mind- horrific imaginings of rotten flesh, bleeding gums, skeletal fingers….

Another flash of guilt, hot and sharp, pierced him. He hadn't been there for her. He should have been there.  
_My poor angel… of course she doesn't want to speak about what happened._

But doubt- paranoia, even- crept into his mind._  
What if that's not all? What if she does want to speak with me- but she's not able to tell me what's happening? What if she's being blackmailed?_

_Is there some way our conversations are being monitored? Is she hinting at what she's not able to say? Is she hoping I'll uncover whatever happened to her? _

As if Padme sensed his troubled thoughts, her brow creased, and she shifted uneasily in her sleep. Vader pressed a gloved hand to her cheek, trying to soothe her._  
I'm sorry, beloved… I'm only worried for you.  
I love you far too terribly not to worry._

Vader layered his next thoughts with a gentle Force suggestion._  
Sleep well, dear one… you have enough troubles in your waking hours; you don't need to dream of them, too._  
_Surely there are fonder things for you to dream of? The lakes of Naboo… the time we spent there…. We'll go back there someday, just the two of us. Dream of that, my love…._

Padme shifted in her sleep again- but this time, a soft smile spread across her lips, and she curled closer against his side.  
_Goodnight, angel…._

Vader lingered beside her for a moment longer. He knew there was work to be done; he knew he had to leave her side if he was going to set their plan into motion. But he'd spent ten years without her. Surely he was entitled to stay beside her just a moment longer?

One moment turned into three… then ten… then twenty…

Quietly, reluctantly, Vader slipped out of the bed. He meticulously tucked the covers around his wife, reaching out one last time to brush his hand against her cheek…._  
You can't stay here forever, _his thoughts coldly broke in.  
And he couldn't. He knew that.

But that didn't make the idea of staying any less tempting.

With one last, lingering gaze, Vader crept out of the grand bedroom.

_She's only two rooms away, _he tried to reassure himself. _Only two rooms away…. _  
It was such a strangely beautiful thought. How often in his lifetime had he been able to say that? Certainly not during the Clone Wars, when he'd spent so much time deployed in the Outer Rim. Certainly not during the past ten years, when she'd-

Grimly, Vader forced himself to finish the thought:_  
...when she'd been dead.  
_That was also a most curious thought. How often could the words "_had been _dead" be used?

Again, Vader's mind turned to the disconcerting conversation he'd had with his bride. She _had been dead…_ and then what? Padme had avoided speaking about her sudden resurrection. She'd tried to hide her reluctance from Vader- and, in the moment, she'd done very well- but now, as the Sith Lord reflected on their conversation….

_What could have terrified her into hiding so much from me?_

_I'm her __**husband. **__More than that, I've been both a Jedi and a Sith. If there was one person in the galaxy she could turn to for answers- especially about the mysterious ways of the Force- shouldn't that person be me?_

_Is she worried the Emperor will read my mind, and use the information against her?  
_He sighed, clenching and unclenching his fists in frustration. If the Emperor was the problem… well, then that problem would be solved very quickly.

His cape swirling behind him, Vader strode into his office. There was a transmission he needed to send… and then, he'd be back at Padme's side.

* * *

Padme blearily opened her eyes, face wet with tears. She hadn't wanted to wake up.  
_It was such a lovely dream…_ she wistfully recalled. _We were back at Varykino. The _real _Varykino, the palace by the hidden lakes of Naboo. And Anakin- my _true _Anakin- he was there with me…._

But the dream was over. And now she was back in reality, where everything was a shallow imitation. Where she was locked inside a windowless copy of Varykino, and held captive by a sweet, doting, genocidal Sith Lord.

She looked up at him. The twisted imitation of Anakin, clothed (as always) in black armor, sat in a chair beside her bed. But he wasn't moving- he gave no acknowledgement that he knew she was awake. Was _he _awake?

Soundlessly, Padme wiped the tears from her damp face.  
_He was lying in bed next to me… then I must have fallen asleep, _she thought, running through the scenario in her mind. _And then he got up to send the transmission we agreed on? And then… then he didn't want to wake me when he came back, so he pulled up a chair, and ended up dozing off…._

"Anakin?" she murmured, setting her hand atop his gloved one. Vader started slightly, causing her to jump as well.  
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to startle you."  
"Oh… no," he replied, a bit groggily. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to fall asleep…."

Padme gingerly sat up, mindful of her injured leg. "It's alright. Did you send the transmission?"  
"I did," Vader replied. He came to sit beside her on the sprawling, four-poster bed. "But I made certain it won't play until noon today."  
She frowned- they hadn't agreed on that beforehand. "Oh?"  
"Yes. You…" he searched for a delicate way to word the statement. "You… looked as if you needed time to recover."  
Padme gave him a lopsided smile. "Surely I don't look _that _awful?"

She was rewarded with his deep laughter- it was a very odd sound, garbled and distorted by his vocoder; it was almost like listening to a recording taken underwater. But to her, the sound was recognizable.  
_Just barely recognizable…._

"You just… seemed very tired." Vader finally said. "I could sense it."  
"Mmm," she neutrally replied. Padme glanced to the chrono on the nightstand. It was about three in the morning, Coruscant time. That gave them nine hours until Vader's transmission was broadcast on the holonet, and- hopefully- it brought them into contact with Obi-Wan.

"I don't think I can fall asleep again," she said, staring at the chronometer. She was wide awake now, despite the quiet darkness of their room-

That thought startled her.  
_This room? Dark? But there are no windows here, just holoscreens that imitate the outside world… and last I checked, they were all filled with "daylight."_  
Unsettled by the sudden darkness, Padme glanced to the nearest holoscreen- one surrounding a marble balcony, far to the left of her bed.

She blinked, wondering if she was imagining this in a fatigue-induced haze. _  
No… this is real. As real as a holographic projection, anyway. _

The forest landscape from earlier was still displayed, but the scene had shifted, seemingly to match the ungodly hour of the morning. It was pitch black in the twisted forest, with white stars spangled overhead.

Padme craned her neck, trying to make out any familiar constellations. To her relief, she found several in an instant- the _Scabbard of Shiraya, _the _Halo of the Righteous, _even _Mietra's Flight_, the arrow-shaped line of stars leading to the Core.

_Nubian constellations… so this hologram was taken somewhere on Naboo? _  
The thought gave her a small bit of comfort. At least there was one real thing in this prison of uncanny replicas.

Would she get to see these stars every night, now? Would the holoscreens really shift with the time of day, showing her the sunsets, sunrises, and beautiful constellations of her homeworld?

It was almost… almost… as good as seeing them in person.

"What are you thinking of?" Vader rumbled, setting a hand on her shoulder.  
Padme jumped, realizing she'd been staring off into space. "Just… can we go out on the balcony for a while?"  
"Of course." Wordlessly, he swept her up into his arms, and carried her "outside," onto the stone balcony overlooking the wall of holoscreens.

To Padme's surprise, a gentle breeze caressed her cheek. Despite the discomfort of being held in Vader's metal arms, she found herself relaxing. She couldn't help it- it was all very soothing, staring up at the stars like this, surrounded by towering trees, with quiet bird songs flitting through the night-  
_No. No. I am not home, _Padme forcibly reminded herself. _This is not my home. _

She closed her eyes, trying to ground herself in reality. That was when she heard it: the quiet hum of a hidden fan. _  
So that's where the breeze is coming from. _  
She wasn't really outside. She wasn't really on Naboo. And she was not- repeat, _was not- _going to let herself become comfortable here. Whatever amount of feigning she did in front of Vader, she was _not_ going to make herself at home in this prison, and she was _not _going to let herself fall back in love with a Sith Lord.

She tensed, gritting her teeth. _  
Who said anything about love?_ _It's not love. It's obsession on his end, and feigning on mine. That's the end of it. _

The former queen- the future empress- closed her caramel eyes, trying to dampen the anger behind them. She couldn't let Vader know that anything was wrong….

She jumped as a soft _thud _sounded from behind her. She was still being held in Vader's arms, so she tightened one arm around his shoulders, as her free hand shot down to her hip, reflexively reaching for a non-existent blaster-

"_Padme,"_ Vader gently chided. "It's alright. You're safe." One gloved hand reached up to cup her cheek, tilting her head up so she had to meet Vader's eyes… or rather, the red lenses of his helmet.

Belatedly- very belatedly- she realized what had happened. Vader had used the Force to summon a chair, and had set it on the dark balcony behind the two of them. Which had then startled her….

Another belated realization hit her: she was still clinging to Vader. She hastily loosened her grip.  
"I'm sorry," she sighed, hiding her face in the crook of his neck, hoping he didn't see the blush burning across her face. "It's… it's been a long day."  
"I know, dear one."

Vader used the Force again, pulling the high-backed chair up to the balcony rail. Then he settled into it, with Padme still in his arms- and now, with her sitting sideways in his lap.

Padme suppressed a sigh, her frustration only mounting. She'd known that her self-assigned mission would require getting close to Vader, both emotionally and physically- but that didn't mean she _liked _it… did she?

Oh, gods- _did she? _

A late night conversation from years ago drifted back into her mind: _  
_"_How long is it going to take us to be honest with each other?" _  
For her and Anakin, the answer was apparently "forever."

But just as importantly- maybe more importantly- how long was it going to take her to be honest with _herself?_

She couldn't keep doing this. She couldn't keep pretending that everything happening here was… was what? Was fine?

What was the lie she kept telling herself? It seemed to change by the hour. Was she trying to tell herself that everything happening here was "strictly professional"- nothing more than a woman fulfilling her duty to the Rebel Alliance?

No, she'd already acknowledged that what was happening here was… strangely, terrifyingly intimate. Everything between her and Vader- their gentle banter, their affectionate touches, their concern for each other- it all came to her too easily. And that scared her.

But what was she so afraid of? Acting like she loved her husband? Playing her role well?

No, she clearly wasn't frightened of that. She'd done it so easily, so _willingly._ Certainly, there had been times in her conversations when she'd had to be more… calculating. She'd needed to think quickly to cover her ties to the Rebel Alliance, to cover her (albeit platonic) affection for the Jedi she'd worked with, and- most importantly- to cover up the fact that she'd tried to murder Anakin that morning.

But the rest of their conversation, the little moments of tenderness in between their life-altering discussions, had come so naturally to her. She'd let herself become lost- to a carefully selected degree- in the familiar rhythms of their relationship.

That fact didn't scare her; she'd already known that she had a deep, intimate connection with Darth Vader. She'd faced that horrific revelation, had made her (momentary) peace with it, and had decided to use it to her advantage.

No, what scared her about their conversation was that she almost… enjoyed it. The past five days had been the worst ones of her life- she'd thought that both Anakin and their unborn child were _dead. _And now… well, now she knew they weren't. And if she didn't think about everything else happening in the galaxy, she could almost be _happy._  
And that emotion felt like a betrayal. A betrayal of her friends, of her own ideals, of her very _self. _

Her stupid, _stupid _heart! Why couldn't she just hate Vader? Why couldn't she hate a dispassionate murderer? Someone who killed men, women, and children without thinking twice?

But she _did_ despise him_. _She absolutely, completely _hated _him- but there were still moments when he made her happy. She hated everything he'd done- but here she was, plotting to make him the next Emperor. _  
And to make myself his Empress…._

It had started out so simply. She'd decided to sacrifice herself, in a manner of speaking, in order to save her friends. And she'd hoped- gods, she'd _hoped-_ that she'd be able to help salvage some of the galaxy, in the end.

But barely twelve hours later, her emotions were already a hopeless mess. She hated Vader; she loved Anakin. She'd thought those two things could be mutually exclusive, but….

"Padme," Vader whispered, clutching her tighter. "Why? Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"  
She froze.  
"Padme, _please." _Vader pleaded. "Let me help you. You don't have to be frightened of anything. Not anymore." He curled his black-gloved fingers beneath her chin, trying to tilt her head towards his-

"Anakin, I don't want to talk about before," she stiffly broke in, turning her head away. Padme turned her gaze to the false heavens, counting the stars, trying to calm herself-

"Padme," he began again. He brushed his knuckles against her cheek, the way Anakin always had. It was such a simple gesture, but it had always meant so much to her. That little act of intimacy had always carried so much with it: it was a silent reminder that they were together, that they were safe, and that it was finally safe for them to express their hidden love.

And right now, it was too much.

"Let me up," she snapped. She pressed a hand against his silver-armored shoulder, trying to force herself into a standing position.  
Vader suddenly gripped her like a vise. "Your leg-"  
"I _don't care, _Anakin!" Padme cried, shoving his hands away. "Just let me up!"

Hesitantly, Vader loosened his grip, and Padme jumped to her feet, lumbering away with all the grace of a wounded bantha. But she didn't care- she didn't care about the stabbing pain driving through her injured knee, she didn't care about her fumbling gait, and she certainly didn't care about Darth Vader's hurt feelings. All she cared about was putting as much distance between her and Vader as possible.

At last, she managed to limp to the marble railing. She clutched it in a white-knuckled grip, one hand pressed to the cheek Vader had touched.  
_He had no right, _she thought, her small hands trembling with rage. _He had no right to do that. _

It was a betrayal of everything that gesture meant. They were not together, not really- not when she hated him in secret. They were not safe- not when Anakin had sold his soul for power, throwing the galaxy into chaos, forcing their child to be hidden away for its own sake. And they were not- _they were not-_ safe to express their oh-so-charming "hidden love." Not when she could be branded a traitor to the Rebel Alliance for doing so. And especially not when Emperor Palpatine would torture her to death for being Darth Vader's weakness.

She clutched the thick, cold railing. It might as well have been prison bars, for all the comfort it gave her.  
_Calm down, _she told herself, _calm down. _  
She _could not _afford to ruin this now. Afterwards, when Palpatine was dead, she could anger Vader as much as she wanted to. But not now. _  
Not now. _

Had she ruined things already? No, she didn't think so. But she had to think quickly if she wanted to repair the situation.

Behind her came heavy, advancing footfalls. The sound of Vader's respirator came with them- but his labored breaths came quicker than usual. _  
Is he angry? _She wondered, almost afraid he'd renounce his devotion to her here and now. _Or is he just stressed? Or as afraid of ruining this as I am... albeit for different reasons than mine?_

A heavy hand fell on her shoulder. "I can sense that you're angry with me," Vader rumbled. His hand reached out again, moving to brush against her cheek-  
Padme batted his hand away, her brown eyes blazing. "Well, thank you, Master Jedi. I'm so glad we have your magic powers to tell us what's going on."

Her heart stopped as she realized what she'd just said.

_Oh, no. _

Oh, she was in for it now- she saw how the Dark Lord had just flinched at the title of "Jedi." She hadn't meant to say it, it had just slipped out naturally- it was what she'd always called him, but now….

She screwed her eyes shut, biting her tongue to keep from cursing herself. She shouldn't have said that; she shouldn't have said any of that! It was just that _stupid _gesture- the back of his hand across her cheek- that got her so riled up, blast him!

That gesture belonged to _Anakin Skywalker. _And Anakin alone had the right to use it. Not Vader. Vader had thrown that right away the second he slaughtered children.

But she couldn't stay so wrapped up in her thoughts; Vader was still standing right there!

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that." Padme blurted, brown eyes still shut against the mess she'd created.  
"Yes, you did." Vader flatly replied. Padme couldn't bring herself to look at him, but he hardly sounded pleased.  
"Well- yes, I did," she admitted, pinching the bridge of her pale nose. "But I also meant that I'm sorry. I am. Believe me, I am." She turned away from him- she could tell where he was because of his harsh, loud breaths- and then she forced herself to open her eyes. She counted the stars again, knowing that they weren't _real _stars, but unable to convince her heart of that.

How many of those star systems had she just doomed with her little outburst? Would any marital trouble, however slight, prompt Vader to go on a killing spree? She hoped not.  
Oh stars, she hoped not.

For a moment there was nothing but the darkness, and the stars, and the cool breeze on her face. There was the sound of Vader's respirator, and the pain slicing through her left leg. It was not a truly empty interlude, but it was terrible all the same.

"You know," Vader said at last, "a wise woman once asked me how long it would take for us to be honest with each other."  
Padme was sure he could see the naked pain that flashed across her face. "Are you really," she whispered, "going to throw that in my face now?"  
Vader turned his helmet toward her. "I didn't mean it like that. I only meant that you were right." He paused. "About that, and a great many other things." He shifted, setting his hands on the balcony, staring out at the projection of the forest. It seemed he couldn't face her any more than she could face him.

She was barefoot, so she focused on the cold, stone floors beneath her toes. It was better than bitterly dwelling on the past.  
But she did the latter, anyway. _So he admits it. He admits that he shouldn't have shut me out all those years ago. And he admits that I was right about Palpatine. _  
Those thoughts didn't fix anything, but they brought her a bit of vicious pleasure.

_Is this your idea of an apology? _Padme wanted to spit out, with all the coldness of a viper. But she didn't.

But she also couldn't think of anything else to say. So she stayed silent, gripping the balcony with all the force she would use to strangle Palpatine.

Her injured leg was quivering now. She knew she should probably sit down. But Padme was _not _going to sacrifice her pride and ask for Darth Vader's help.

The Sith Lord's cape swirled as he turned toward her, and Padme braced herself for the words that were to come.  
"I don't care," Vader began, "if you tell me you hate me. If you scream at me. If you try to kill me, if that's what you need to do. But, Padme… don't do this. Don't shut me out." Tentatively, he laid his metal hand on her arm. "Please. Anything but this."

She didn't shrug off his hand, but she didn't acknowledge it, either.  
"I don't…" she swallowed tightly, struggling to keep her voice level. "I don't… understand… how you could do this." Padme resolutely fixed her eyes on the forest, ignoring the towering man to her right.

For a few heartbeats, there was only that half-filled silence. The artificial breeze stirred her dark hair, and rustled Vader's black cape. The air was cool across her skin, and the recorded bird songs still murmured in the background of the holographic forest. For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to leap off the balcony and tear through the dark woods, damaged leg or not. She'd give anything to touch something _real_\- she wanted the real night air, she wanted the damp dirt getting caught between her bare toes, she wanted even the pain slicing through her knee as she ran, and awful, bone-chilling temperatures of the shadowed, forested mountains. She'd take anything, anything over these delicately crafted fantasies. She'd take anything over this twisted, psychotic man who claimed to be Anakin Skywalker._  
Anything…._

It became clear that Vader was waiting for her to say something.  
_Anything…._  
That was why she was here, wasn't it? Because he'd promised to do anything for her.

"I just… I don't understand this, Anakin." she whispered tightly, forcing herself to use his real name. "I don't understand why we're here in the first place."  
Anakin ran his hand along her slight arm, but he kept his silence.

_So he's listening. About time, _her mind acidly commented. _He couldn't have done that when it would have saved the galaxy, could he have?_

"I don't…" Padme forced herself to turn to him, to look into the red lenses of his helmet. "I don't understand why you joined the Sith. Why you turned to the Dark Side, why you trusted Palpatine." She shook her head slightly, as if that would help. "How could you?" she croaked. "How could you kill them, Anakin? The Jedi? The _children?_"  
Vader's mask titled down slightly, as if in shame.  
"Look at me," Padme demanded. Her fists were clenched so tightly that her nails drew blood from her palms. "Look at me and tell me why you murdered them."  
"I thought…" Vader's voice wavered. "On Mustafar… I thought I had explained to you…."  
She scoffed, brown eyes flashing. "Well, you obviously didn't do a very good job, did you?"

Vader looked up. "For you. It was… for you."  
Padme froze, mouth agape. She turned to fully face him. "_What?"_  
Her husband reached out to her, one trembling, gloved hand coming to cup the back of her neck.  
"To save you…" Vader's voice broke; his entire, monstrous body was shuddering. "You were going to die. I couldn't- couldn't let you…" His voice sounded oddly distorted, like his vocabulator couldn't transmit the proper emotional inflections. Vader's free hand found hers, and captured it in an iron grip. "Palpatine… said... he promised… that the Dark Side had the power to… if I did what he asked, he'd… he'd save..."

Padme felt her stomach twist, bile rising up in her throat at the very thought. "And he… he ordered you to do this? All of them?" She could barely form the next words. "Even the children?"  
The Sith Lord bowed his head. "Yes."  
"And you honestly believed he'd help you?" Disgust dripped from her tone.  
If it was possible, Vader bowed his head even farther. "Yes."

Padme turned away. She might have crossed her arms over her chest, but her legs were still unstable, and she needed to lean on the balcony to keep herself standing.

"He'll want me dead, you know." she said quietly. "Palpatine. And he'll want the baby-" She bit her lip, closing her eyes against the tears pooling there. Her baby was all grown up, now. A full ten years old.  
"He'll want our child, too," she flatly finished her sentence.  
"I will _never_ let him take you, Padme. Either of you," Anakin vowed. "I would die first."

"And what if that happens, Anakin?" she snapped. "What if you and Obi-Wan die tomorrow, and Palpatine still lives? What then?" Padme shook her head, glaring daggers at the trees before her, as if she were going to hack down the forest by herself. "The rebels won't help me; they'll find out I was here, and I'll be branded an Imperial spy before I can say a word. And it's not like I can rally the rest of the Empire to my side. The clone- the stormtroopers," she corrected herself, "aren't going to overthrow Palpatine on the whim of some girl who comes out of nowhere, claiming to be the late Darth Vader's wife." She took a deep breath, running one shaking hand through her thick curls. "_I need you to understand this, _Anakin. You didn't save me. You didn't. Even though… even though I'm here now, even though I'm alive and I'm not sick anymore, there's still every chance that I could die tomorrow. Even more of a chance than before."

Padme reached out to him, and he set his hands beneath her elbows, gently supporting her as she struggled to stand on her own.  
"Anakin…" she murmured, truly pleading now. "Please. Please, tell me you understand."  
"I know I wasn't strong enough to protect you, my love." he murmured back, voice still laden with grief. "And I have never regretted anything more in my life. But now-"  
"_No." _Padme cut him off sharply. "Anakin, as long as you keep chasing these powers, they are going to destroy us. I don't know much about the Force, but I know enough. I've seen what happens. The Dark Side always comes with a price." She reached out, tracing her fingertips across the side of his black mask. "Please, tell me you understand now. Tell me you understand what I've been trying to tell you. What I told you on Mustafar, all those years ago…." She swallowed tightly, fighting back the lump forming in her throat.

He shook his head, and her heart sank.  
"Padme, if you'd only seen the things I have-"  
"What things, Anakin?!" She cried. "What could possibly convince you that this is worth killing so many people?!"

_It's my fault. _A small, guilt-laden voice assaulted her thoughts. _This is my fault. He did this to save me… and now I've only convinced him that it was worth it, telling him I was raised from the dead…._

"During the Clone Wars," Vader softly answered her, "I was transported to this… place. A strange world called Mortis."  
Trepidation stirred within her heart. "You never told me that," Padme whispered. Somehow, the simple revelation felt like a betrayal.  
"I didn't want to worry you." Vader replied, seemingly honest. "Padme, what I saw there…" He ran his hands across her arms, and Padme felt a chill run through her core. She remembered the last time he'd held her like this: on Mustafar, caging her in as he explained his manic vision for the future.

"There were three beings who called themselves the Ones," Vader continued. "They were… as near as I can explain it, they were so powerful that they were embodiments of the Force. The Dark Side, the Light, and the entirety of the Force." Vader's hands tightened slightly around her forearms. "They possessed almost godlike powers. They were able to control all life on the planet- the seasons, the storms, even the shift between night and day."  
"But- Anakin," Padme protested, trying to control her trembling voice. "They- they couldn't have been human-"  
"They were," Vader replied. "But they had… transcended it, somehow."

"Anakin, you're scaring me." Padme whispered, her legs shaking violently, threatening to give way beneath her.  
"There is _nothing_ to be afraid of, Padme," Vader insisted. He bent down towards her, his skeletal mask only inches away from hers. Gently, he bowed his head, the top of his helmet coming to rest against her forehead. With one of his hands cupping the back of her neck, and the other wrapped snugly around her waist, Padme could not have been better trapped.

"There's more," he murmured, and Padme felt her stomach sink.  
"The eldest of the Ones- the Father," Vader continued, "told me he was dying. He had lived thousands of years, but he had finally begun to age. But the others- the Son and the Daughter- they were still perfectly young." Vader's words were coming faster now, infused with a manic energy. "The Father warned me, told me that the Son- the One belonging to the Dark Side- was growing stronger. I journeyed into his territory, hoping to stop him, like the fool that I was. But the Son gave me a gift." Slowly, Vader reached up to caress her cheek. "I received a vision of the future. And it convinced me to join the Dark Side."

"The future?" Padme whispered. "Anakin… Anakin, what did he show you?"  
Vader sighed, his voice dripping with disgust. "I can't remember it now. The Father confronted me, and erased the vision from my mind, returning me to the Jedi I once was."  
"But then, if you were a Jedi again…" Padme began, trying to keep her voice steady. "I don't understand how… how it lead to…." She tightened her grip on Vader's forearms, as if that could bring him back to reality.

"It wasn't until the end of the war, when… when you were dying, that I remembered Mortis, and the powers the Son held." The Dark Lord said. Vader's thumb idly caressed her cheek as he continued: "And most importantly, I remembered the trials the Father had put me through. In the end, I proved that I could control both the Son and the Daughter, something no one but the Father- the embodiment of the Force itself- could do. And to the Father, that proved that I was the Chosen One."

Vader gripped her tighter, pulled her even closer, if that was possible. "Don't you see, Padme? This is what I've tried to tell you. What _Kenobi,_" he practically spat the name, "did his best to keep me from telling you. I _am _the Chosen One, stronger than even the immortal Ones. I was born to control the Force, and all its powers. One day, I will even be strong enough to keep you- to keep _us_\- from dying."

She opened her mouth, and closed it again, completely speechless.  
"I know you don't believe me," Vader darkly replied to her silence. "But it was _real- _all of it. Kenobi and Tano saw it as well."  
Padme tried to hide the skittishness in her wide eyes, but it was no use. At last, she tentatively replied: "Obi-Wan and Ahsoka never talked about it."  
"There were many things they wished to forget," Vader cryptically replied.

Her mind was reeling- and it showed. A visceral wave of nausea and vertigo was sweeping over her, and she clung to her husband to try and combat it.  
_What in the worlds am I supposed to say to him? "Go on then, make me immortal?" _

"Anakin, I don't want to live forever." she whispered. "I'm sorry. I don't."  
"Whyever not?"  
"I don't want to watch my friends and family grow old and die."  
Vader tilted his helmet slightly to the side, seeming to study her barely-contained horror. "Then I will not allow that to pass," he replied.  
"And when the stars burn out?"  
"Then we shall choose a world to sustain and make our own, as the Ones did." Vader said. "And we will take those we choose with us." He laughed humorlessly, twirling a strand of her hair between his gloved fingers. "Perhaps then we'll finally have some peace."  
Padme held his gaze firmly. "We're not gods, Anakin." she said quietly.  
"Not yet," he answered.

She lowered her eyes. What else was there to say?

Silence reigned for a moment.

"It's late." Vader said, gently. "And given your plan, I suspect there will be quite a bit of work to do tomorrow. We should head inside."  
Padme almost scoffed at that. _  
Inside? We __**are **__inside,_ she wanted to snap at him. _There isn't even a window to the outside in this whole kriffing suite.  
_But instead, she nodded quietly, and looped her arms around Vader's neck. He picked her up gently, cradling her in his arms as he carried her out of the balcony, and back to bed.

But she didn't fall asleep. How could she? _  
_"_We're not gods, Anakin."  
_"_Not yet." _  
The conversation looped through her mind, over and over and over.

She was too wound up to even close her eyes. She stared blankly at the flashing lights on Vader's chestplate. She tried to memorize the lengthy pattern in which they blinked. It wasn't a soothing activity, but it was… mind-numbing. Almost.

It wasn't until at least an hour later when Vader- apparently also awake, watching her- pressed two fingers to her temple.  
"Go to _sleep,_ Padme," he murmured, with what must have been a hint of a Force suggestion, because all of a sudden her eyes were impossibly heavy, and her whole body was relaxed, and she dove toward the oblivion of sleep that she'd been craving…  
...and she got it.


	16. The Announcement

**Author's Note: **

_Thanks for the reviews! You guys are great :)_

_This is just a quick short & sweet update but I hope you all enjoy!_

* * *

"Hera," Obi-Wan called, urgency tainting his tone.  
"Hmmm….wha…?" she groaned, draping one of her lekku over her bleary eyes.  
"Hera, wake up." The Jedi snapped again- from the distant sound of his voice, he was now farther away than before. Chopper added a series of frantic beeps to the general's command, before rolling away himself.

With a heavy sigh, Hera dragged herself out of her (admittedly uncomfortable) sleeping position in the pilot's chair. She glanced at the nearby chronometer, and noted with despair that it was already noon. More relevant than that: it was already noon _on the day after Empire Day. _Had the mission gone according to plan, they would have been back on Polis Massa by now, but….

Hera tried to suppress another sigh as she made her way out of the _Ghost's _silent cockpit. _  
But of course, everything that could have gone wrong, did. _

Vader was alive, the rest of the _Ghost _crew had been captured, and Padme Amidala was probably never going to see the light of day again. Not to mention the fact that Hera, Chopper, and General Kenobi were still stranded on Coruscant.

Well, not stranded per se, but unwilling to leave. Hera hadn't been able to bear the thought of abandoning her crew to the Sith's tender mercies- and as it turned out, neither could Obi-Wan. And so, the three of them- and their ship, the _Ghost_\- were still holed up in the illicit tunnel system running out of the _Good Omens _casino.

(Fortunately, their presence there wasn't an issue: when they'd arrived on Coruscant two days ago, they'd abducted the owner, Grutch Mergur, in order to safely commandeer the _Good Omens _for the extent of their mission. Grutch was still sedated in a medcapsule, and the casino was still shut down, so the surviving rebels had decided the _Good Omens _could function as their base for a little longer than planned.)

But despite the relative safety of their hideout, Hera hadn't slept. Neither had Obi-Wan. Even Chopper, her trusty little droid, had refused to power down. Instead, the three of them had spent endless hours poring over various flmsiplast diagrams: the expected troop movements and security measures post-Empire Day; the rebels' possible flight paths out of Coruscant; and- most importantly- the schematics of the maximum security prison the rest of the _Ghost _crew was being held in.

Hera, Chopper, and Obi-Wan hadn't been able to come up with a plan to break the rest of the crew out… yet._  
But we will, _Hera reassured herself. _We will. It's only a matter of time._  
_Time that my friends might not have…._

She pressed that thought to the back of her mind. Obi-Wan had called her; but what had he needed? She could focus on that. Yes, she could keep her mind focused on the present, on what she could do _right here and now _to help her friends….

"All right, I'm up." Hera called back to Obi-Wan, hoping he'd tell her what needed to be done. She waited a moment, but there was no reply.

So she stepped out of the otherwise empty cockpit. The twi'lek woman ran a green hand over her tired, turquoise eyes. She half-fell, rather than gracefully slid, down the durasteel ladder that led to the crew's common room. And as she stepped into the common quarters, she was about to ask what was wrong-

_Oh no…._

_No, no, no, __**no!**_

In the center of the dingy common room, a blue-tinted holoscreen displayed the official emblem of the Empire, and blared its dreary anthem. She knew what that meant- _everyone _knew what that meant.

_It's an official announcement from the Emperor, _she realized, stomach plummeting, _and it's mandatory viewing. This will be playing on every single holochannel in seconds flat._

Mandatory viewing was rare. In fact, it was only used for one express purpose: the Emperor announcing- or sometimes even showing- the execution of high level traitors.

High level traitors, like her captured crew.

Hera's heart screamed as she burst fully into the dim room, stumbling into a torn seat beside Obi-Wan. She searched the Jedi Master's face, hoping against hope that this was simply some error on the holonet broadcaster's part, that there would be no executions today….

But the look on the Jedi's face told her otherwise.  
"The broadcast hasn't started yet," he hoarsely informed her. Shaking like a nylla leaf, Hera reached for his hand. General Kenobi graciously took it, squeezing it tightly- in this nightmarish moment, it was the only comfort he could offer her.

They waited for a few more awful moments. The Imperial anthem played all the while, its brassy tones mocking their grief.

After a seemingly endless minute, the blue image flickered, coalescing into a holographic figure- but it wasn't the Emperor.

It was Darth Vader. His labored breaths filled the transmission. They echoed through the cramped common room of the _Ghost, _sending a shiver up Hera's spine. She fought the urge to turn down the volume on the holoset.

"I have a message for Obi-Wan Kenobi." The Dark Lord slowly intoned. Even when delivered by a meter tall, holographic figure, the Sith's words were chilling.

Hera really did shudder now; beside her, Obi-Wan tensed. They sat in anxious silence, both trying to convince themselves that Vader couldn't see them through the holoset.

"If you and Hera Syndulla will surrender to me," Vader continued, "then in exchange, I will release the rest of your traitorous crew."

Hera gasped, clamping a hand over her mouth to muffle to sobs gathering in her throat._  
They're alive!_  
Kanan, Ezra, Sabine, Zeb- they were alive!

At least, according to Vader… and Hera didn't trust the Sith Lord as far as she could throw him.

But right now, she didn't care. Right now, she was desperate.

"You have one hour." Vader concluded. The hologram flickered, shifting again to display the Imperial emblem.  
"This concludes our great leader's broadcast." A cheery woman's voice came across the holoset. "Standby to resume our scheduled programming."

With one trembling hand, Obi-Wan reached out to turn off the holoset. Slowly, the Jedi turned to meet Hera's eyes. Silence reigned for a moment.

"It's a bad idea," she at last whispered through her raw throat. "There's no guarantee that Vader will go through with the prisoner exchange. And you and I are in higher leadership positions. When…" Hera forced herself to complete the painful thought, "when we're interrogated, we'll have more information to give over to the Empire. That's why Vader wants us, isn't it?"  
Sadness drowned every corner of the Jedi's blue eyes. "Yes. Not to mention the personal hatred Vader bears for me. And perhaps even a grudge against you, for being such an effective thorn in his side."  
Hera managed a weak smile at those words.

Obi-Wan sighed, running a hand across his gray-flecked beard. "You want to do this, don't you Hera?"  
"I do," she whispered, tears glazing her eyes. The twi'lek woman took Obi-Wan's hands. "But I can't ask this of you."  
The Jedi knight shook his head. "No. It won't work unless both of us go."

Chopper let out a distressed squeal, rolling into Hera's leg as he jabbered unintelligibly.  
"Shh, Chops, it's okay." Hera murmured, patting the rusty droid's dome. Her heart ached, knowing what she had to do next. "Of course I'm not going to leave you."  
She knelt down, her turquoise eyes meeting Chopper's beady black lenses. "You've been a good friend, you know that? I'm sorry I couldn't have given you a better place to live. Or all those oil baths you've been begging for. Or better casing, or-"  
Chopper cut her off with a series of gentle beeps.  
Hera bit her lip, trying to keep her voice steady. "I wouldn't have changed it for the world, either." She patted his dome one last time, trying not to think about what would happen to him after she was gone.

"I'll miss you, Chops," Hera whispered. Then she slid her long fingernails beneath the edge of Chopper's dome, searching for the emergency power override switch. She found it.  
For the last time, perhaps ever, she turned off her trusty droid.

"We'll leave him here with the _Ghost._" Hera explained to Obi-Wan, ignoring the ragged edge to her voice. "If Vader really does let my crew go, then they'll be able to come back here and use the _Ghost _to get off Coruscant." _  
And hopefully, they'll rescue Chopper, too,_ she thought. Other beings might think it was silly to be sentimental over something as replaceable as a droid- but that was just it. Chopper wasn't replaceable, and he wasn't just a droid. He was her friend, her trusty companion, her-

Hera cut her thoughts off short. Caring for her friend was one thing; letting her feelings interfere with her duty to the Alliance was another. _  
Time to move on, _she silently coached herself. But like so many things, that was easier said than done.

She pressed herself to her feet, and was caught off guard by the warmth- the genuine compassion, even- in Obi-Wan's eyes. Somehow, the Jedi Master understood how she felt about her droid.

"We still have to be careful, Hera," the Jedi warned. "If the Empire captures Chopper, they could-"  
"Search through his memories and extract information about the Alliance. I know." She sighed, brushing her lekku back over her shoulders. "I have protocols in place. If anyone other than my crew and I try to access his memories, it will automatically trigger a memory wipe." A lump formed in her throat even as she said the words. She'd never, ever wiped Chopper's memory. _Never._  
"Even so," Obi-Wan pressed gently. "The Empire has very skilled technicians. We shouldn't underestimate them."  
"Which is why we're doing this." Hera gestured to the droid as she headed to the cockpit. "Help me carry him, won't you?" She tried her hardest not to look back as Obi-Wan lifted the little droid with the Force, and followed her through the ship.

Once she reached the cockpit, Hera's hands flew over the controls, enacting a protocol she'd hoped she'd never have to use.  
"This is an automated self-destruct sequence," she explained. "Once we leave the _Ghost, _the protocol will come to life. The next time anything boards the ship, the self-destruct sequence will start up. There will be forty-five seconds to cancel it, and only my crew and myself know how to stop it." She fixed Obi-Wan with a hard stare. "And they would die before they gave up that information."

Obi-Wan nodded, a hand still thoughtfully resting over his beard. "And what if the Imperials manage to get Chopper off the ship before it self-destructs?"  
"They won't be able to break into this smuggling compartment before then." Hera replied. Even as she spoke, she was sliding aside a synth-plast panel in the ceiling, and unlocking the safe hidden there. "If you'd do the honors?" She asked, her voice still shaking slightly.  
The Jedi nodded again, and used the Force to lift Chopper up into the hidden compartment.

_Goodbye, Chops… _Hera silently said her farewell as she closed, locked, and re-concealed the smuggling compartment. With a heavy heart, she turned to Obi-Wan.

"Is there anything you need to take from the ship?" The twi'lek asked. "It's all going to be destroyed." Her stomach sank even farther at those words. This ship was _her home. _And just like that, it would be gone. _  
Because of Vader, because of this blasted Empire…._  
Just like that, sorrow turned to rage, and Hera had found her center again.

In answer to her question, Obi-Wan shook his head. "No. I don't have any other possessions. And if I did, I wouldn't want the Empire getting a hold of it."  
Hera nodded her approval. "I take it we're surrendering on foot, then?" She asked. "Unless you want to rent a landspeeder and drive to the nearest Imperial embassy."  
"I could use a good walk." The Jedi replied, managing to dredge up some of his characteristic good humor. "But we won't be heading to any of the embassies."  
"Oh?"

"If I were Darth Vader," Obi-Wan explained, "and I had captured Padme, then I would be holding her at a secure location. Somewhere on Coruscant, as there's no time to move her yet. But somewhere outside of the Emperor's reach."  
"And that place would be..." Hera frowned, working through the puzzle in her mind. "Well, next to Imperial Palace- which isn't an option because the Emperor is there- the most secure place on Coruscant has to be Vader's castle."

"Indeed," the Jedi replied, his blue eyes twinkling. "I think we might pay Darth a visit. After all, he did ask us to surrender to _him._ It would be terribly rude not to comply."  
A sly smile worked its way across her face. "Just what do you have in mind?"  
"I think I'll make it up as we go along." A cunning gleam entered the general's eyes. "But if I were you, I would bring along some grenades."

* * *

Sabine gasped as the blindfold was roughly tied around her eyes, _far _too tight for comfort. "Where are you taking me?" She demanded yet again.  
One of the stormtroopers, perhaps tired of hearing her yelling, answered. "Prisoner transfer," was his gruff reply. "Lord Vader's orders."

_Oh, _Sabine thought, _this might actually be good. _  
Vader had somewhat ominously promised that Sabine would be pleading her case before Padme. That might just be happening sooner than Sabine had expected.

Accordingly, she went limp, letting her captors guide her out of her cell. If she could have crossed her fingers, she would have. _  
Maybe all this bad luck's finally going to let up, _she silently hoped.

They walked down the hall at a brisk pace, the stormtroopers half-dragging her as she stumbled blindly down the hall.

After years of working with explosives, her hearing was a bit worse for wear- that's why she didn't hear the nine approaching beings until they were right behind her.  
_Sabine? _Ezra called.  
She opened her mouth to reply- was he right behind her? In a stormtrooper's armor? But then, why was no one else acting like they'd heard-

_Relax, _Ezra's voice said again, seemingly coming from nowhere and everywhere at once. _It's a Force thing._  
_Oh._ Sabine thought. A wave of relief rolled through her. _You're alive!_  
_Yep, _he cheerfully replied. But his tone didn't match the sense of… weariness that Sabine somehow felt emanating from him. As she honed in on that feeling, her head started to pound.

_Sorry, _Ezra added. _I can't keep up this mental link without projecting some feelings, too._  
_It's okay, _she replied, gritting her teeth. Other sensations were coming to her now, too: a stabbing pain between two of her ribs, a migraine that could knock a Gamorrean off its feet, not to mention that her legs were burning. No, not burning- _being set on fire._

A cold sweat broke out on Sabine's skin as she bit her tongue, trying not to groan. Her throat was raw and dry; the prison's bright, artificial lights stung her eyes, despite the thick blindfold she was wearing.

_Vader tortured you, didn't he? _Sabine rasped out in her mind. _That's why I'm feeling all of this. You're the one who felt it first.  
Yeah, _Ezra agreed, not bothering to hide the exhaustion in his thoughts this time. _I'm sorry, Sabine. I didn't tell him anything, I swear-_  
_It's alright, Ezra, _she tried to soothe him. _I know you wouldn't. I'm sorry you had to go through this._

She paused, trying to think of something to say. _Where are you now?_ Sabine asked. I_ just left my cell- it's some sort of prisoner transfer. I think Vader might be behind it.  
I'm right behind you._ Ezra answered. _Two stormtroopers just took me out of my cell; they're still here, guarding me. And… _  
_And? _She prompted gently. _  
And Kanan's being dragged behind me by another two stormtroopers, _he answered. Even though it was simply a thought projected into Sabine's mind, Ezra's grim tone was impossible to miss.

"He's hurt?" She gasped aloud.  
"Shut your trap." One of her guards snapped. The trooper tightened his grip around her upper arm. "Filthy traitor…."

_It's bad, _Ezra telepathically told her. _Real bad. Whatever Vader did to him… I could sense it, Sabine. It was awful…._ Despite it being a mere thought and not a vocalized statement, Ezra's voice broke. _  
It's going to be okay, Ezra, _Sabine promised. _You'll see. Just hold on._

_I have to go now, _was Ezra's exhausted reply. His words seemed heavy, slurred together, almost dragged out of his mind. _It's not easy, keeping up this link. I just wanted you to know we were okay… Zeb's here too, but he's pretty out of it…. the guards are having to pull him along, too..._

_Okay, _Sabine calmly replied, trying to send as many soothing feelings as she could over their telepathic link. Granted, she wasn't a Jedi, and she didn't have any idea how to do that, but she hoped that by centering her thoughts on soothing things, Ezra would pick up on them.

_Just hold on, Ezra, _Sabine silently said. _I can't lose you, too._  
_You won't, _Ezra promised. And with that, his voice faded away….


	17. Rescue

**Author's Note: **Guess who's back? Real life's been kicking my behind, but now I'm here! Thank you all for your patience, and your lovely, thoughtful reviews.

_**Special thanks to RyuuShadow, Mercenary29, and daughterofthechief**_**,** who've left reviews on basically every chapter of this story and always make my day! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *ヽ(◕ヮ◕ヽ) You guys are fantastic and it means so much to me that you're still here after all this time.❤️

_**More special thanks**_ to Selenese, who read & reviewed my Vaderdala one shot "Resurrection" and then came to read & review this story, too! And of course, thank you to my guest reviewers, and new reviewer Aladina! (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ So glad to have you guys here along for the ride!

_**Announcement: I have a tumblr! **_I've been dabbling in painting, so I decided to do a bit of art for this story! I've posted it on _thejediwhodrew - d0t - tumblr - d0t - c0m_ (Sorry for the lack of an actual url, f_anfiction - d0t - n3t_ always censors them!)

**trigger warning: **please be aware that at the _very _end of this chapter- at the end of Sabine's point of view- there is a threat of a suicide bombing. If you're uncomfortable with this material, you can skip to the very, _very _end of the chapter, where I'll leave a brief plot summary. Look for my second author's note to find this!

* * *

Padme shifted slightly, wanting nothing more than to draw the sheets up over her head and pretend she didn't exist. Pretend that she was dead, still entombed on Naboo. Pretend that she was still a little girl, and the hardest thing she'd have to do today would be get ready for school.

It was impossible to pretend any of these things when all she could hear was Darth Vader's steady breathing.

With one last sigh, one last deep breath of her own, Padme opened her eyes.

She catalogued her surroundings. A ceiling, painted with gold leaf. A four poster bed, made of dark, costly wood. A red, embroidered velvet blanket. One soft white dress, lined with fur. One husband, who routinely committed murder. (Children were not exempt from that habit.) One galaxy that had advanced ten years while she had been blissfully comatose.

Perfectly normal.

A gloved hand skimmed lightly across her thigh, coming to rest gingerly atop her injured knee.  
"Good morning," Padme murmured in response.  
"It's only five thirty." Vader's baritone voice rumbled by her ear. "You can go back to sleep."  
She sighed, staring up at the paneled ceiling. "I can't. I really can't."

A moment later, Vader was gathering her into his arms, and carrying her out of the bedroom. She thought about asking where they were going, but didn't quite feel like it.

She was tired. Bone-deep tired, the kind of tired you only got from working a soul crushing job, or losing a loved one, or… or finding out your husband was a killer. Compared to that, being carried to an unknown location just wasn't high up on her list of concerns.

She buried her head in Anakin's shoulder, shutting her eyes and wishing that the galaxy would just swallow her whole.

The journey didn't last long, however. It wasn't more than a minute before Anakin had set her down in a high backed chair- Padme looked up and found she was in the dining room. The dining room modeled after the Naboo lake house….

Idly, she ran her nails over the long table in front of her, following the grain of the wood. By the gods, even the grain of this wood looked exactly like the real table from Naboo.  
"This is from the lake house," she said. Vader nodded, confirming her suspicions.  
"Do you like it?"  
"I do," she murmured, her nails still skimming the surface.

It didn't make her happy- no, it brought up too many painful memories for that. But it was a comfort. She didn't know what she'd have done with herself in a cold, barren fortress. At least here she could daydream… play pretend, even if only for moments at a time.

Gaze at the holoscreens nearby… stare out at the projections of the lake… pretend she was on Naboo….

But as always, Vader broke into her thoughts.  
"Padme, have you… eaten recently?"  
"Oh, I…" She looked up to him, then down at the table again, stalling for time.

_Think, idiot!_  
If she was talking to anyone else, she would have said yes, that she'd just eaten with Sabine and the _Ghost _crew. But she couldn't tell Vader that; for gods' sakes, he actually still believed she'd just been raised from the dead!

What lined up with her story? What had Sabine told Vader, and what would line up with Sabine's story?

Padme just sighed, and shrugged.  
"I'll have a droid bring you something," Vader said, laying his hand briefly on her shoulder before leaving the dining room.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Padme sighed in relief. Luckily, Vader hadn't pressed her for information- he seemed to accept that she was too traumatized by her death to talk about her resurrection. But how long was that going to last? How long before she made some simple mistake that brought this whole charade crashing down?

How in the worlds was she supposed to manage this life, when a simple question about breakfast gave her a heart attack?

Sighing, Padme laid her head down on the table. Let her be pitiful… it would only encourage Vader to take care of her, and pull him away from his Imperial duties.

And in her heart of hearts, she really did want her husband to take care of her.

* * *

Breakfast was a short affair. There was shurra fruit, sweet rolls, gossiphir nectar- all her favorite foods.

Of course they were her favorites.

The meal passed in silence. Vader held her left hand, waiting patiently as she ate with her right. He didn't eat anything, and Padme wasn't sure that he could.

The rebels had theorized that Vader's armor was, in fact, a life support suit… and now, Padme was quite certain of it. After all, if he _was _able to remove his helmet, Anakin would have surely kissed her senseless by now.

When she'd finished her food, a silver serving droid came to clear her plates.

When it was gone, Padme cleared her throat softly.  
"I'm… I'm sorry, Anakin. For starting a fight last night."

Her conscience almost screamed at that apology.  
_Apologize? Apologize for being angry that _he _killed thousands?_  
But she quickly suppressed those thoughts. Anger and resentment were not going to be productive in this situation. Vader had laid the galaxy at her feet, and she was going to graciously accept it- if only to try and save it from him.

She had rejected his offer, once…. On a planet that she would not name, would not even think of.

She was not going to make that same mistake twice.

Vader gently squeezed her hand. "It's in the past now," he replied.  
_Our fight? Or his actions? _She wondered. _Maybe he means both._  
"Padme…" he began again, taking both her hands into his. "I know you don't believe what I've told you- what I've told you about Mortis. Please, just…"  
He sighed. "I would give you the entire galaxy. Please, just let me have this. Let me have this chance to save you."  
She sighed, as well, averting her eyes. "I don't want anyone else getting hurt because of me, Anakin." She whispered. "Not even indirectly."

For a moment, Anakin looked away as well. "I know you saw my journal. The records of my experiments."  
She must have looked confused, because her husband elaborated: "I saw you, on the holocams. I know… what you saw, it upset you. And I'm sorry. I never meant for you to find-"  
"That doesn't change the fact that people were hurt." Padme quietly interjected.  
Vader lowered his head. "I know. But now… now that you're here, I… I see no reason to continue my experiments. I can promise you that much, at least."

Diplomacy, she knew, was all about the art of the compromise. All things considered, this was progress. This was good.

She squeezed Anakin's hands softly, before pulling her own away. "Thank you," she murmured, somewhat awkwardly smoothing out her skirt. Sweet Force, when had she gotten so tongue tied? Then again, Anakin didn't seem too eager to make conversation. He seemed content just to sit there and…  
"You're staring," Padme whispered.  
"I'm sorry." He didn't seem sorry at all. "It's just… it's… it's been so long since I've seen you, Padme. And now… suddenly you're _here._"

The former queen looked down, unable to meet the intensity of his gaze- she could feel it, even though his eyes were concealed by red lenses. She could almost… _sense _it.  
Was he reaching out to her with the Force? Struggling to reassure himself that she was real?

"Sometimes it's hard to remember it's been ten years." Padme said at last. Her husband nodded. He reached for her hand again, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of knuckles.

"Your family is well," Vader said quietly. "I've kept tabs on them. Pooja has joined the apprentice legislators, and Ryoo has taken an interest in Nubian theatre."  
A real smile spread across her face as she thought of her beautiful nieces.  
"And my parents?" She asked.  
"Retired. Well-off. Your sister and her husband have had no more children, but their careers are stable."  
"That's good," she whispered. Her cheeks hurt from smiling. "That's really, really good."

Tentatively, she cupped her hands around the back of Vader's neck, and drew him towards her. When he was close enough, she placed a soft kiss on the tip of his metal nose.  
His breath audibly- and very loudly- hitched, and Padme couldn't quite suppress her laughter as she pulled away.

Comfortable silence settled around them, and Anakin simply sat beside her, holding her hands… staring at her.  
"I should go get changed," she said at last. The white gown she wore was beautiful, but not very practical. Especially with the possibility of a battle looming over her head….

* * *

"I should go get changed," Padme said.

Vader nodded, and gently lifted her into his arms. It was still surreal to hold her._  
Padme is alive, _he quietly revelled. _She is alive. This is not a dream I will awake from. She is alive, and she will not disappear.  
_

_She is alive, and she will never leave.  
_

The circular, slightly dazed thoughts continued as he carried her to the bedroom, and- through general stubbornness- convinced her to spend a few hours in a healing trance. Her injured knee would be completely repaired by the time she woke.

He used the time to meditate. It was… difficult, truly, to delve into the Dark Side with Padme's soothing, Light presence beside him. But although hatred was a far reach for him at the moment, there were other emotions he could draw on- ones that satisfied the Dark Side just as much as hatred or fear. Vader could draw upon passion, desire, possessiveness… all emotions the Jedi recoiled from. Emotions the Jedi _feared._

The dark power surging through his veins had never felt better.

He was almost disappointed when the hours concluded- but that feeling quickly faded as he saw Padme's brown eyes flutter open. Gently, the Sith cupped her chin, holding her like a treasure… _his _treasure.

He allowed himself one more moment of indulgence, stroking her hair softly, before helping her up.  
"Your leg should be healed by now," he said as he removed the bandage from her knee. "I can help you to stand, if you'll let me."  
Padme nodded, her eyes somewhat wide as she probed the flawless skin of her knee.

Sure enough, with his help, she was able to stand, then walk, then walk on her own.

He wanted to linger here- to do nothing but stay by his bride's side. But that was not possible. At least, not yet.

There was work to be done. An Emperor to dethrone. Jedi to conspire with.

And one last matter that had to be dealt with before noon, when- if all went according to plan- Kenobi and Syndulla would turn themselves in.  
"I would like to bring Sabine Wren here, and have you confirm her story." Vader explained aloud. "If we are going to enlist her help, then I need to know that she is trustworthy."

Padme nodded- but Vader sensed her anxiety rising once more. He wished, for a moment, that he could read her thoughts… or better yet, that she would confide in him. He wondered- not for the first time- what she might be hiding.

But that could wait until Palpatine was dead.

For now, the Sith apprentice had Sabine Wren and her crew to deal with….

* * *

Sabine shifted her hands, and the binders on her wrists dug into her skin with the movement. The rough blindfold was still tied tightly around her head, blinding her and muffling her already sub-par hearing.

She was seated on a cold metal bench. It swayed slightly as the landspeeder- likely a covered prisoner transport, though she wasn't able to see it- sped along the empty streets of Coruscant.

Behind her, two stormtroopers- at least, she thought there were two- were shifting restlessly, their plastoid armor clacking with the movements. They hadn't said a word, aside from telling her to shut up and stop asking where she was being taken. But they were clearly nervous to go… wherever they were headed.

The young rebel still didn't know if she should dread arriving at the unknown location. On the one hand, the Imperials herding her to goddess knows where was _not _a welcome prospect. On the other hand, Ezra had told her this was a prisoner transfer… which could mean Vader was fulfilling his ominous promise:

"_You will repeat this story to Amidala," Vader had said, staring down Sabine in the interrogation cell. "She will decide your fate." _

Cursing silently, Sabine mentally ran through her concocted story one last time:

_I gift-wrapped Padmé Amidala for you.  
_

_I know about your experiments. You've tried to bring her back to life. Whatever you did this time worked. I found her wandering around in her funeral dress and brought her as close to you as I could. There were too many stormtroopers for me to stick around; I would have been shot on sight.  
_

_I was on Coruscant because I'd planned a robbery. I'd only cooperated with the rebel strike so that Kenobi would help me sneak onto Coruscant. When he ordered me to sabotage the AT-ATs, I did as little damage as possible- and you only lost six AT-ATs out of hundreds.  
_

_Sure, Kenobi ordered me to kill you- but I didn't take the shot, did I?  
_

_Before I got into position on the rooftop, I ran into Padmé, and recognized her. I told her I was a member of the Rebel Alliance, and that she could trust me to hide her from the Sith. Before I went to the rooftop with my sniper rifle, I brought Padmé to the alley. I showed her a place to hide, and told her to stay there while I got us a transport off-world.  
_

_I knew Obi-Wan would be too busy running from you, to notice Padmé there. But you would find her. Like I said, I practically gift-wrapped her for you. I could have killed you instead, and sold Padmé to someone like the Hutts, but I didn't. And I'd like something in return._

_I'm tired of being a rebel. I've been looking to get out for a while now, but I can't erase my criminal record. You can do that.  
I want you to pardon myself and the rest of my crew- _including _the two Jedi._

In a way, it was a terrible story. It completely threw Obi-Wan under the speederbus. But, as far as she knew, Obi-Wan was still a free man… while her crew had been interrogated in Imperial prison cells. And if this story saved them, she knew that Obi-Wan would forgive her less-than-charitable characterization of him.

_Besides, _she thought with a wry smile, _Vader hates him anyway. I don't think I could make it any worse.  
_

_Probably…._

Suddenly, Sabine found herself lurching forward as the speeder came to an abrupt stop.

"You might want to hire a better driver," Ezra rasped out- from not too far away! Hope filled Sabine briefly. It was the first time she'd heard his voice since being captured (aside his brief use of Jedi telepathy to contact her). He sounded… well, he sounded terrible. But at least he was able to talk!

"Quiet, you," a stormtrooper barked. The sound of a blaster rifle hitting skin resounded- painfully loud- through the speeder.  
"Leave him _alone._" Sabine commanded, putting as much authority into her voice as she could. "We're under Lord Vader's protection!"

An instant later, a gloved hand yanked her roughly to her feet.  
"We'll see about that." Another stormtrooper- the one clutching her forearm- hissed. He brazenly pulled her forward, out of the speeder, onto a stone path….  
Up a flight of stairs, slick and slippery beneath her feet, like they were cut from marble….  
Into a turbolift….  
Across another floor, one that echoed, like they were in tight corridors….  
A series of doors slammed closed behind her….

And she was suddenly shoved onto a comfortable, cushioned seat.

And her blindfold was ripped off. Loud footsteps echoed through the chamber as the stormtroopers retreated, the doors slamming behind them.

Even before her eyes adjusted to the sudden light, she heard Darth Vader's slow, steady breaths.  
_Kssh-kkkk….  
Kssh-kkkk…._

Sabine steeled herself, even as her heart flipped.  
"Lord Vader," she cheerfully greeted him. She tried not to squint while her eyes slowly adjusted to the bright room.

"Sabine?" Padme softly replied.

Sabine gasped.  
_She's alright?! She's alright!  
And Vader has her…._

"Let her go, Vader," Ezra hissed, from somewhere to Sabine's right.  
"Brave words, from an unarmed boy." Vader rumbled. The Sith sounded… almost amused, in a twisted sort of way. It made her skin crawl.

The rebel girl was still seeing stars, but she forced herself to blink them away. Slowly, a black, monstrous silhouette formed before her. _  
Vader._

"Right…" Sabine muttered. "So I'm guessing I'm here to recite my story?"

She blinked again, her vision finally clearing. And she found herself in…

A palace?

A strangely elegant, elaborate palace.

They were in a room built from rosy stone, with pillars supporting a domed, marble ceiling. Various pieces of furniture, made from costly wood, were scattered through the room. It seemed to be some sort of parlor- behind her was the durasteel door they'd entered through, and far to her left were six wooden doors. Meanwhile, to her right was…  
Sabine fought the temptation to rub her eyes in disbelief. _  
_

_That's impossible…._

To her right was a marble balcony overlooking a sprawling beach and a wide, sparkling lake. The entire area was enclosed by mountains, so tall they seemed to scrape the sky, and completely consumed by a forest.

Sure, there were nature reserves on Coruscant, but it would have taken hours to get there by landspeeder. So how in the worlds did they end up here?  
But that thought couldn't hold her attention for long. Not when Darth Vader was standing barely three meters away, arms crossed as he loomed over her. To Sabine's relief- and mild horror- her crew was here with her, seated beside her on a long… settee.

Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith, owned a yellow velvet settee. And Sabine was being held captive on it.

She wasn't sure if she was going to laugh or burst into tears.

_Deep breaths. Focus._  
She forced herself to focus on one detail at a time. She was seated on a yellow settee, beside Ezra, Kanan, and Zeb. They all seemed fine- good, she'd been worried- but the lack of bruises didn't fool her. She knew the Imps had ways to hurt you that wouldn't leave scars….

Across from her, on another settee, sat Padme.

For a moment, the two women locked eyes, both silently searching the other for some sign that they were unharmed. Sabine wasn't too much worse for wear, aside from a bruised cheek, bound hands, and scuffed armor. And Padme… Padme seemed…

Padme wasn't in her funeral gown anymore. Instead, she was dressed in a slim lilac tunic, one that crossed diagonally over her chest like the old Jedi uniforms. Sabine wondered if there was a reason Padme had chosen to wear that- was it some secret slight against Vader, some act of remembrance for her late Jedi husband?

A plum sash wrapped around the former queen's waist, matching her leggings and long, fingerless gloves. Her hair was twisted into a crown of braids, held in place by gold pins; sturdy black boots and a holstered blaster completed the ensemble.

It was unnerving. She looked like a perfectly poised doll, sitting docilely beside her captor- hells, she even had her makeup done for him. She looked nothing like the grieving woman Sabine had met; nothing like the fiery, disheveled rebel she'd adopted as a sister.

Sabine didn't know what was worse: that Vader had clothes tailored to a dead woman just lying around, or that the Sith had decided to play dress up with her this afternoon.

Padme lifted a hand just slightly, just an inch off the settee, but Sabine caught the tiny motion. Then- slowly, cautiously- Padme tapped a finger against her knee. Once, twice, three, four times… _  
_

_In a pattern, _Sabine realized.

_In morse code!_

Carefully, Sabine watched the movements from the corner of her eyes.  
_A-M-O-K-H-A-V-E-P-L-A-N._  
"_I'm ok, and I have a plan," _Padme was silently saying.

Sabine subtly tapped her foot in response:  
_O-K-T-R-U-S-T-U._  
"_I'm okay too, and I trust you."  
_

She was broken out of her thoughts by Darth Vader's voice.  
"You are all here because Wren has arranged a plea deal," the Sith began, "which I may fulfill- _if _she has been truthful." The tone of menace was unmistakable.  
"My wife will determine that," Vader concluded.

Sabine couldn't keep her composure any longer. Her jaw dropped, and hot, burning anger worked its way through her core. _  
_"She's not _your _anything-" she protested, rising to her feet- just as Zeb did the same.  
The lasat growled, "You can't just-"  
And clawed for his throat, choking.

In horror, Sabine looked back to Vader, only to see the Dark Lord's hand extended, slowly closing into a fist. Zeb sputtered, his furred face turning red, as Ezra nearly leapt to his feet to defend him-

Hastily, Kanan and Sabine held him back, practically dragging him back down onto their seat, just as Padme rose to her feet.  
"_You will not take her from me." _Vader was saying- quietly, ever so quietly- his full attention still on strangling the lasat. The room's temperature seemed to drop a few degrees.

Slowly, as if she didn't want to startle her new "husband," Padme laid a small hand on his forearm.  
"Please don't hurt them," she said softly. Her brown eyes pleaded with the Sith.  
Vader immediately yielded to the small queen. "As you wish," he said flatly. He released his hold on the alien.

Zeb fell to his knees, gasping for air, and Kanan quickly helped him up. The Jedi pulled him back onto their seat.

"What do you even have to gain for this?" Ezra boldly filled the silence. "Why should we trust you?"  
Vader tilted his head ever so slightly, studying the padawan. "Stall all you like, young one. Do you truly believe I haven't sensed Kenobi's presence, as well?"

Ezra's blue eyes widened- even Kanan's jaw went somewhat slack. _  
Obi-Wan's here? _Sabine realized. _Force damn it, why wasn't I born a Jedi? _  
Across from her, Padme paled slightly.

"Did you believe he was here to rescue you?" Vader pressed on, clearly enjoying the rebels' discomfort. "_I_ summoned him here. Syndulla, as well."  
Sabine swallowed tightly. Her mouth ran dry, and she tried to ignore her sweating palms. "This wasn't part of the deal, Vader."  
"I am altering the deal, child. Pray I do not alter it any farther."

Suddenly, Vader looked up, bringing his lightsaber into hand. "Enter, Kenobi."

With a wave of the Sith's hand, the door behind Sabine opened; she heard footsteps and craned her neck and saw….

Nothing.

That is, nothing until Obi-Wan and Hera deactivated their cloaking devices, revealing both themselves, and the four dozen grenades strapped to their chests.  
"Hello, Darth." The Jedi Master cheerfully said.  
"It's been a while," Hera flatly added. "Now let my family go."

They'd appeared right behind the settee Sabine was trapped on, and now Hera laid a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. Sabine reached up, her bound hands squeezing Hera's. Her heart was pounding, she could practically hear the beats echoing through her skull, frantic, trapped.

"Let us go, Anakin." Obi-Wan quietly said. "All of us. Padme, too. If you truly love your wife, you won't force her to die here with us."

* * *

**Second Author's Note: **_a plot summary of the end of the chapter: Obi-Wan and Hera use their cloaking devices to sneak into Vader's castle, along with four dozen grenades strapped onto their chests. They threaten to blow everything to the sky if Vader doesn't let everyone- including Padme- go. Oh, and Obi-Wan totally just used Anakin's real name in front of all the rebels. Talk about the Jedi's flair for the dramatic._


	18. Negotiations

**author's note: **

_thanks, Mercenary29 for another review! you're the best :3_

_and thanks to the guest reviewer, too! i love the visual of vader as a deranged housecat, lol. :)_

* * *

"Let us go, Anakin." Obi-Wan quietly said. "All of us. Padme, too. If you truly love your wife, you won't force her to die here with us." He grasped the trigger tightly, cold sweat beading on the back of his neck. If his thumb slipped so much as a centimeter, the entire batch of grenades would detonate.

But what he and Hera knew- what _only_ he and Hera knew- was that the grenades weren't deadly. The Jedi Master carefully shielded his thoughts. If Vader had even the _slightest _suspicion that the grenades- despite their menacing appearance- were simply smoke bombs….

Well, suffice it to say that this whole ruse would be over before it had truly begun.

If anything went wrong, Obi-Wan would deploy the smokescreen and attack Vader while Hera rescued the others. He prayed the diversion would be enough.

But for now, everyone in this room barely dared to breathe, much less move. And Obi-Wan intended to keep it that way- at least, until his friends were safe.

He knew this had been a risk. An insane risk. But if there was one thing Obi-Wan had learned, it was that Anakin never gambled with Padme's life.

And Darth Vader never forgave…. Which meant that unless Obi-Wan got everyone out quickly...

Well, he would most likely die.  
_There is no death; there is the Force…._

* * *

Padme sat there, body rigid, eyes wide, mouth agape.  
_Anakin. He just called Vader "Anakin."_

"Obi-Wan…" she breathed. It was the first sound anyone had made. Even Anakin seemed unable to process what had happened- that, or he was terrified to move.

_Darth Vader, terrified?_  
With her life on the line, it just might be possible.

Hera was the first one to move. The twi'lek shifted ever so slightly, her turquoise eyes landing on Obi-Wan.  
"Obi-Wan, what do you mean…" she whispered, keeping half her attention on Vader.

And Vader laughed.  
_Laughed._  
The sound echoed through the small, silent chamber. Everyone gaped, petrified, as the sick peals of laughter gradually died away.  
"You were always a liar, Kenobi." The Sith Lord said at last. "You always betrayed the ones you claimed to love. Have you never learned? Have you never thought that you might be your own destruction?"

* * *

Sabine dared to move, just barely, just enough to see the Jedi Master's haunted eyes.  
"Obi-Wan, what is he talking about?" Hera hissed.  
Obi-Wan swallowed tightly. "Hera, I-"

"Did he idolize the memory of Skywalker?" Vader taunted, "Did he rally you to his side with some brave tale of a Jedi martyr?"  
"I said nothing but what was true." Obi-Wan declared, his voice ringing through the enclosed space. "That Anakin Skywalker was a good man, murdered by the evil of Darth Vader."  
"I destroyed him, Kenobi. Make no mistake." Vader stood taller- prouder- if that were possible. "But he is far from dead."

"Then make no mistake, Lord Vader," Ezra boldly spoke up. "We _will _rescue him."  
"No, Ezra." Obi-Wan softly replied. "We can't."  
Sabine swallowed tightly. If no one else was going to ask, she might as well. "Why not?"

The Jedi Master took a deep breath, an untold sorrow filling his blue eyes. "Because…" He faltered.

The Sith Lord stared him down, fists clenched at his sides, utter hatred dripping from his gaze. "I was once Anakin Skywalker."

Sabine felt the room whirl around her. _  
_

_What?  
_

_**What? **_

No- he couldn't- she must have misheard- no, it was all some sort of cruel joke, some sick, psychotic-

"No!" Kanan shouted, rising to his feet. "I _knew _Anakin. He would _never_ have done what you have!"  
"Kanan-" Hera whispered, true terror in her eyes for the first time. She reached for him with her free hand, her long, green fingers clutching the back of his tunic like it was her lifeline.

"Anakin Skywalker was weak." Vader hissed, tightening his grip on his lightsaber. "I saw through the lies of the Jedi. I destroyed them, just as I destroyed him."  
"And I failed him." Obi-Wan murmured. "I failed them. I failed you. But now I'm here to set that right."

Obi-Wan spread his arms wide, still keeping a careful grip on the trigger in his hand. "You wanted me here, Anakin. And I'm here. But I'm not going to let you hold Padme prisoner." His blue eyes found the queen's, and somehow- without speaking a word- he sent her an apology of galactic magnitude. And Padme's soft, sad eyes sent it right back.

"And how," Vader snarled, "do you intend to stop me?"  
The Jedi Master sighed, raising the trigger he was holding. "How do you intend to stop _me_ from releasing this, Anakin? Do you really want to gamble Padme's life on a test of reflexes?"

"Wait!" Padme pleaded, rising to her feet once more. She set her hand lightly on Vader's wrist, as if to restrain him. "Please, Obi-Wan, listen to me. The reason that Vader-"

She paused, squaring her shoulders, raising her chin like the royalty she was. "The reason that _we,_" she corrected herself, "called you here is… is because we have an offer. A… truce."  
"You're with _him?_" Ezra hissed, before Sabine could stop him.

Padme's brown eyes flashed with naked pain. "No, Ezra- I- I never knew, before… before coming here. Obi-Wan didn't tell me." Her voice softened as she looked to her old friend. A friend that- although Vader didn't know it- had convinced Padme to murder her husband.

"I never meant for anyone to get hurt." Padme murmured, frantically blinking back the tears that stung her eyes. "I'm sorry."  
"It's not your fault." Hera replied, so gently that Padme almost burst into tears.

"But we aren't taking your plea deal, Vader," Hera spat, her eyes suddenly filled with venom. "Obi-Wan and I aren't turning ourselves in and just _trusting_ you to let our crew go. And we sure as hell aren't leaving Padme here with you. No matter _who _you are. You don't deserve her."

Padme swallowed tightly, her eyes finally dry. "Hera… Obi-Wan… please, listen to me. That isn't what we're offering."  
The twi'lek shifted somewhat anxiously, looking to Obi-Wan. His free hand moved to touch his beard- an old habit from his days as a negotiator, one that meant he was deep in thought.  
"Alright, Padme." The Jedi Master softly replied. "We're listening."

Padme took a deep, shaking breath, nervously smoothing out her tunic. "The transmission that Va- that Anakin sent to the holonet was just a ruse. Something to distract the Emperor from why we're really gathering here.

"Every one of us is here because we have a common enemy- and a common goal." She raised her chin, and for a shining moment, she was the queen and senator they'd known. "Every one of us wants the Emperor taken off his throne."

Hera gasped- Sabine nearly did, too. Everyone, aside from Padme and Vader, was slack-jawed.  
After struggling with the new information for a moment, Obi-Wan tentatively spoke: "You mean… to propose some sort of alliance?"  
Padme nodded, her relief evident. "We do."

"Of course," Vader added darkly, "you will have to provide us something in exchange."  
Hera pressed her lips into a thin line. "You mean, something other than our help assassinating Palpatine?"  
"We mean, something in exchange for… immunity from prior treason… after this is over." Padme quickly interjected.

"I see." Obi-Wan carefully said. His face was a perfect politician's mask, betraying no emotion. "I take it that offer extends to all of us? Myself included?"  
Vader crossed his arms, hardly pleased with the notion. But the Sith Lord nodded.  
"And what is it we'd be offering?" Obi-Wan asked.

The temperature of the room dropped several degrees.  
"You will never attempt to assassinate me again." Vader bit out. "And you will _never _place my wife in danger again, nor will you place her at the center of any more of your ill-fated schemes."  
"Of course," Obi-Wan calmly replied. "No one in this room will harm anyone else here. I believe that is a common part of a ceasefire agreement."

Sabine wondered how the Jedi Master could maintain such a calm façade. Personally, she was sweating. _  
How much does Vader know?!  
Does he know Padme almost-_

_No. No. No. Control your thoughts.  
He obviously doesn't know. If he knew, Obi-Wan would be dead.  
Control your thoughts.  
__**Don't let him know.**_

"There is one final term to our agreement, Kenobi." Vader hissed.  
Sabine's stomach sank. She didn't know what in the galaxy Vader wanted, but she knew it wasn't good.

"When the Emperor is dead, and there is no chance of him reading my mind, and discovering this information…" Vader began. His hidden eyes bored into Kenobi's- and for the first time, the Sith seemed ready to kill the Jedi, regardless of the consequences. "You _will _tell me the truth of my child's survival."


	19. The Truce

"_There is one final term to our agreement, Kenobi." Vader hissed.  
Sabine's stomach sank. She didn't know what in the galaxy Vader wanted, but she knew it wasn't good._

"_When the Emperor is dead, and there is no chance of him reading my mind, and discovering this information…" Vader began. His hidden eyes bored into Kenobi's- and for the first time, the Sith seemed ready to kill the Jedi, regardless of the consequences. "You will tell me the truth of my child's survival."_

* * *

Obi-Wan stiffened, his blue eyes widening. _  
No- Vader can't know. He couldn't!_  
"Obi-Wan…" Padme whispered. "I know… I know what you told me about my baby, but after this, I… I just can't trust you anymore." She lowered her gaze, not even able to look at him. "I'm sorry."

The Jedi Master swallowed tightly. What was he supposed to say? That he'd hand over Luke and Leia to a Sith Lord- that he'd condemn two innocent children to be enslaved by the Dark Side? Or should he say that he'd never reveal their location- which would be a death sentence not only for himself, but for the other rebels here? Not to mention it would kill any chance of them working together to assassinate the Emperor?

"I…" Obi-Wan began. He cleared his throat, trying to work some moisture back into his dry mouth. "I am sorry that I have lost your trust, Padme. Truly, I am. I never intended for this to happen- for _any _of this to happen."  
His old friend looked up at him- and in her eyes, there was not the gaze of a proud queen, but the sorrow of a grieving mother.

The Jedi took a deep breath, praying that these next words would not be the death of him. "But please… ask yourself, is this really what's best for your child? To be torn away from the only family he's known?" Obi-Wan could _feel _Vader's rage about to boil over, even without using the Force; the Jedi quickly pressed on. "To be taken from his home, and surrounded by darkness? To be raised by a Sith?"

"_My_ child," Vader hissed, "should never have been kidnapped, should never have been raised by a family of imposters! _You _are the one who's hurt him, Kenobi- do not attempt to blame this on me!"

A tall vase in the corner began to tremble; cracks formed in it, as if it were being crushed by an invisible hand. Padme glanced toward it, then elected to ignore the result of Vader's fury.  
She turned towards Obi-Wan, and said quietly: "What's best for our child is for him to never live in fear of Emperor Palpatine. And as my child's mother, I thank you for your concern, but it is _my_ job to worry about what's best for him. Not yours."

Obi-Wan remained silent, ignoring the sweat beading in his palms. What more was there to say? He knew- somewhere deep within him, he knew- that it was only a matter of a time before the Empire found the twins. Vader would be relentless.

But was deposing the Emperor worth allowing Vader's children to rise in his place? To form a new generation of Sith?  
_If only there was more time, _He desperately wished, _time to warn the Lars family and the Organas, time to alert any surviving Jedi to the Skywalker children, time to train them in the ways of the Light Side…._

And suddenly- for no real reason at all, it seemed, except for the guidance of the Force- his mind flashed to the words he'd exchanged with Master Yoda, just before this mission had begun.

_"If this goes wrong, Master, I have a feeling it's going to go terribly wrong." Obi-Wan murmured. He stretched into the Force, and raised his hand, struggling to channel healing energy through the Nightsisters' amulet. The necklace trembled in his Force grip.  
"Seek not to control, Obi-Wan, but to guide," Yoda answered.  
_It never can be a straightforward answer, can it? _Obi-Wan had mentally grumbled. But all he'd said aloud was, "Yes, master."_

_The green alien chuckled. He lifted his three-clawed hand and effortlessly held the amulet still. Or rather, nearly still: the necklace still twirled through the warm air, as slowly as if it moved through melting butter._

_"And seek to understand, Obi-Wan. Little, mean words, without understanding." Yoda added, opening one copper eye to send Obi-Wan a knowing glance.  
Obi-Wan felt his face burn bright red. "Yes, master." He answered- much more humbly this time._

_Yoda sighed, his shoulders slumping forward heavily, his wide green ears flattening. "Mmm… seeking to control the future, this was Vader's mistake." The Grandmaster continued. "Cause much anxiety, this does. A Jedi's mind should be at peace."_

The memory had slammed into him with all the power of a Force vision, and now Obi-Wan blinked rapidly, trying to reorient himself to the room he was _actually _in- the hidden chamber of Vader's palace.

And he felt at peace. A peace that he had not felt since he was a young boy in the Jedi Temple, a peace that he had not felt since he'd felt Qui-Gon's hand resting proudly on his shoulder, a peace he'd not felt since he'd taken in a young, lost boy, and grown to love him.

He could not control the universe. That was hardly a secret, and yet somehow, he'd lost sight of that simple fact.

"_But Master Yoda says I should be mindful of the future," he'd once said to Qui-Gon.  
_"_But not at the expense of the moment." Qui-Gon had replied._

Although neither of them had known it, it had been Qui-Gon's final mission._  
Death, yet the Force, _Obi-Wan quietly consoled himself.

He could not control the universe. By trying to do so, he'd only placed the twins in more danger. And now, he could not buy the twins more time. Now that Vader knew of his child's survival, it was only a matter of time before the Emperor would learn this, too.

And deep within him, Obi-Wan knew that the galaxy would be better off if the Skywalker twins were saved from Darth Sidious… even if that meant Obi-Wan couldn't save them from Darth Vader.

The Jedi sighed softly- he could almost hear Qui-Gon's voice:

"_Let go, Obi-Wan…."_

"_Trust in the Force…."_

"Very well." Obi-Wan said at last. He saw Padme's eyes light up- even Vader stiffened slightly in surprise.  
"And should you not survive this mission?" The Sith asked slowly, suspiciously. "How am I to find my child then?"

Obi-Wan frowned. _  
You would hope for my death, wouldn't you, Darth?_  
Still, it was more than a valid question. Sidious had once killed three Jedi Masters in a matter of seconds, and was held at bay only briefly by Mace Windu; even Master Yoda hadn't been able to defeat the Emperor. Obi-Wan didn't relish the thought of fighting Palpatine anytime soon.

"I suppose, in that case…" He began. How could he say this without placing the other rebels in danger?  
"I'm assuming this immunity extends to any other contacts I will name?" Obi-Wan asked.  
Padme nodded quickly, before Vader had a chance to disagree. After a moment, the Sith nodded, too.  
The Jedi Master sighed. "Then in the case of my unfortunate demise, you should contact Senator Bail Organa."

"I _knew _he was involved with the Jedi." Vader ground out- speaking mostly, it seemed, to himself.  
"Oh, I never made any claims of the sort," Obi-Wan replied, with a perfect air of innocence. "He's simply an ignorant victim of circumstance, who has a penchant for helping orphans."  
"I'm sure." Vader dryly replied.

"Well, then. If we're all in agreement," the Jedi continued breezily, "Hera and I could use some help defusing these bombs." He raised the trigger he was holding. "If you wouldn't mind cutting the green wire here, Darth."


End file.
